


Iudiciis de Rebus ex Animo

by Cosmicboredom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-01-13 04:10:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18461207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosmicboredom/pseuds/Cosmicboredom
Summary: Trials of the Matters of Heart-On July 31st, Severus received a letter from the Headmaster of Hogwarts. It was an official letter, addressed to the Professor and not the man. He assumed it was an all-staff party invitation and ignored it in favor of finishing the last of his potions. But the letter seemed to follow him into his laboratory, and everywhere he turned, it would be sitting innocuously among his things.





	1. July

**Author's Note:**

> So this will be my first fic posted ever. Please be kind, and you know, let me know how you like it. I'm probably only going to be posting Snarry for right now, as they are my otp always.

On July 30th, at midnight, Harry awoke in soaked sheets, his thighs sticky, writhing in pain as his abdominal muscles cramped and released. He groaned as he tried to exit the bed, and almost retched all over the floor. He slid out of the bed, landing with a thump, and sat up shaking. Hedwig clicked at him, and he shushed her.

“Stop.” He hissed as he pushed himself up. She continued to nip at the cage, and screeched as he approached. “Hedwig, seriously. Hang on.”

She nipped at his fingers as he unlatched her cage.

“Hedwig!” He whispered. “Please be quiet!” He opened the cage and limped to the window. “Go to Ron's.”

The owl nipped his fingers again when she landed on the window sill, chirping like mad.

“Go to Ron's, I'll be fine.”

She chirped again and then took off, leaving him to whatever horrible issue he was having. At least she would be safe from the consequences.

He moved on to strip the bed, he'd sweat and it was everywhere, muddling up his room with its scent. He gagged, throwing the bed linens into the corner. His spine tingled before a fresh, cooling wave of wetness spread across the back of his thighs. Groaning in disgust, he removed his slacks and shorts. The night air made his feverish skin stop itching, and he reached back to touch the fluid oozing out of him.

“What's wrong with me?” He whispered, groaning again when he saw the fluid was clear and smelled of peaches. It awakened something in the back of his mind, and like some sleeping giant, it rose to take over.

His groans changed, he could feel it happen in his throat. Suddenly, the pain was gone and his mind cleared enough to assess his situation.

His left arm ached from holding his weight, his knees burned against the hardwood floor, but that warmth spreading from his backside made him sag. His fingers had settled inside him, plugging the rush of fluids and resting against his prostate. It felt good, like his body needed the intrusion to survive.

Embarrassed, he moved his wrist, and his index brushed against his prostate. It sent electricity through his limbs, and his muscles shook, giving him enough reason to pause. In those scarce moments, he managed to position himself better, relieving his knees and palm of the strain. He leaned against his mattress, sweat dripping down his back and face, fingers still deep inside him. He panted under the heat, but he pressed on, moving his thighs apart and leaning back.

It was weird, but it alleviated the abdominal pain  _ and _ the emptiness he felt in his belly. His cock was harder than it had ever been in his whole life, and it made his actions slightly less weird, at least in his mind.

He wondered wildly, for a fleeting moment, if he would be able to keep his fingers in the right place and sleep at the same time. But the moment he withdrew to shift, the pain returned tenfold.

By the time the sun was rising above his neighbor's roof, he hadn't moved much, trying to keep the pain at bay. But his back ached from the abnormal position, and his erection hadn't flagged even a little. He decided to go for it, and pressed the pad of his middle finger into the nub inside him. It was deliberate, but deadly as the sensation had him sweating and panting again.

“Merlin,” he cursed, trying to roll his hips forward. The movement made the sensation grow, pooling in his belly just below his navel. He was tired, and wet all over. His toes curled with every shock of pleasure, and he had to stuff his other hand in his mouth to keep quiet.

The knock on his bedroom door sent panic through his skin, and it crawled. He threw the comforter over himself with his free hand and removed his fingers, pain lanced through his body immediately. He groaned weakly as the cramps resumed.

“Boy, get up and do you- oh!” Petunia said as the door opened, and he must have looked pitiful. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the room. “Where's the bird?”

“I- I sent her away,” he panted, and his throat felt dry. His body wanted, and he just wanted her to go away, not to witness this embarrassment of a disaster. “She was making too much noise.” He groaned and curled in on himself as a particularly bad cramp knotted his insides.

She just sniffed at him in disgust. “Good riddance, that diseased bird can stay away for all I care. What about you?”

“Not doing good.” He swallowed hard. “Just leave me be, and I'll be better tomorrow.”

“Fine, no dinner tonight.” She said, and left. No reason to stay any longer.

It didn't matter, his friends had sent cakes and pumpkin juice yesterday morning, but he felt like puking instead of eating. He just wanted time to deal with this issue, and then to get back up on his feet and move on.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

On July 31st, Severus received a letter from the Headmaster of Hogwarts. It was an official letter, addressed to the Professor and not the man. He assumed it was an all-staff party invitation and ignored it in favor of finishing the last of his potions. But the letter seemed to follow him into his laboratory, and everywhere he turned, it would be sitting innocuously among his things.

Finally, as his Shrinking solution entered the last and most independent phase of brewing, he relented and opened the letter.

_ Professor Severus Snape, _

_ This is an official notice of a presenting student. Mr. Harry James Potter has been documented as an Omega, and requires a guardian of a certain standing among the Professors of Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore has nominated both you and Minerva McGonagall as Mr. Potter's guardian. _

_ You have twenty-four hours to respond, should you wish to take on this responsibility. Otherwise, the second nominee shall take the position. We look forward to hearing from you. _

_ Signed, _

_ Silvia Augus _

_ Head of the Department of Litigations and Liaisons _

_ M.O.M _

Shock. Maybe resentment. He wasn't sure how he felt. He would rather be de-spining  **_Mimbus Mimbletonia_ ** , to be quite frank. But Albus had nominated him, ahead of Minerva, with no one else after her. He was considered the boy's only lifeline.

Of course, that had always been the case; he'd been chasing that boy and cleaning up his messes for six years now, he certainly couldn't just  _ stop _ because someone  _ else _ could take the reigns. That would be nothing less than abandoning the boy, in his greatest time of need even.

Sighing, he Summoned a quill and some parchment to scribble down his assent, and sent all of it to the Department Head's desk. In a few short hours, he would have to leave his home in Spinner's End and begin his internment as Harry Potter's guardian. He wondered how the boy would react, as he poured himself a significant amount of alcohol to nurse for a while.

 


	2. August

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bees lazily droned through their work, rising and dipping through a sea of green. Birds chirped and sang to their offspring, cicadas buzzed high up in the trees. It was a nice day, one of the last of the year, and the sun was just at the right temperature for Snape in his long black attire.
> 
> “You were right.” Snape said softly, all irritation gone for the moment. “This is nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is reaaaaaaally long (hah), and the next one might be also. But that actually might just make you guys happy, so let me know in the comments below! I love constructive criticism, it literally feeds me.

On August 10th, Harry had been dealing with the abdominal cramps for at least a week, but it didn't stop him from earning his keep. He worked mostly in the garden, his aunt feared he would puke on her pristine floors if she let him clean the house. But he was enjoying the fresh air and the food that wasn't made mostly of sugar.

Plus, the work was making him so tired that by the time he was able to feel any pain, he was out cold and unable to respond to his body's agony.

The garden was getting the pay off also, the hydrangea had yet to wilt away for winter, and the grass was still supple and green. He knew his magic was a perpetrator of this upsurgence, having nowhere to really go, as it filled the garden with every breath he took. But his aunt was happy, and that made his uncle happy, which granted him the luxury of staying off their radar. As long as the garden was green and clean, his arse was free and clear.

So, that night, when he entered the kitchen from the backdoor, it was both a surprise and a curse to see none other than Professor Snape sitting at the table with his aunt and uncle.

“What's going on?” He asked, looking at Snape only.

“It's good to see you, too, Mr. Potter.” The man sniffed and laced his fingers together atop the table. “We were just discussing your new living arrangements.”

His relatives looked scared. And he did everything he could to not smirk. “New living arrangements, sir?”

“Now, see here!” His uncle piped up, but his voice was shaky and Harry had to hand it to the man for his courage. “The boy is not going anywhere! It's enough that you  _ people _ drop him on us, another to request he attend that  _ freaky _ school of yours, and quite another to whisk him away! What do we get out of it? A house full of  _ freakishness _ and regular unwanted visits!”

Snape didn't look the least bit bothered by this outburst. In fact, he looked impressed.

“Believe me, sir.” The dark man said, frowning deeply. “There is nothing short of necessity that would force me into this position. But these are desperate times, and the 'boy,’ as you so eloquently labelled him, is the last weapon against an age of Muggle genocide.”

Harry felt insulted.

“Be that as it may-!”

“Wouldn't it be enough to get the  _ freak _ out of your house?” Snape said sharply, obviously peeved, but Harry couldn't imagine what could have this effect on him.

Vernon was silent then, and one could see the steam from the cogs in his head pouring out of his ears. Petunia refused to acknowledge the irritable man in her kitchen, so that left Harry to diffuse the situation.

“I'll need my things.” He said quietly, and Petunia glared at him.

“So,” Snape picked at his robes as if there was lint clinging to him. “Go pack.”

“Sir, you don't understand.” He said through gritted teeth, and now Snape was glaring at him. “I need my  _ things _ .” He said again, but softer and only faced his aunt.

She turned to Vernon, who nodded, and then she got up and gave him the key that was strung around her neck. “Make it quick, boy.” She whispered without looking at him.

He nodded and ran up the stairs to get his trunk in order. His clothes took time, as he had to fold them small enough to fit, but soon his room looked like it was ready for a guest instead of housing a teenager. Then he went back downstairs to unlock the cupboard, where he found Snape waiting for him. The man watched as he unlocked the cupboard door, and he tried to make it as quick as possible by filling his cauldron with books and kits. Once he had his wand in hand, he immediately felt calmer and focused.

“Do you know why I'm here, Potter?” Snape asked suddenly, making him jump and he bumped into a shelf, which dropped a spider on his shoulder.

“I'm being escorted to the Burrow?” He answered, unsure. Snape had never been present to collect him before, so he didn't know what else could have changed this year.

“No, we will be occupying your godfather's house for the time being.” Snape said. There was no malice or sarcasm in his voice, and that scared Harry more than if the man had instead been shouting at him. “How are you feeling?”

Harry took a moment to answer, instead focusing on making sure he had everything, and closing the cupboard up for good. “I'm no worse than last you saw me.” He said in a neutral voice. He remembered their last encounter vividly as a violent and jarring experience.

“Ah,” Snape sounded like he was smirking. “Nothing new occurred recently? Or are you just afraid to confide such an intimate experience to me?”

“I got sick for my birthday, but I've been getting over it.” Harry said, defensively.

“Wait, you don't  _ know _ ?”

“Know what?” He shrugged and looked at his Professor.

“You poor, naive, young son of a bastard.” Snape said, shaking his head. “That wasn't sickness, Potter. It was your first Heat, you've reached maturity outside the conventional means. You're second gender is Omega, we will be going over your health education later. For now, you may want to hurry as I heard your uncle trying to find a way to have me  _ buy _ you. As I do not wish my life's savings to be negotiated, you would do well to ensure he doesn't ask.”

His mind reeled with the information Snape so bluntly laid out in that hallway, but he knew he didn't want to piss the man off if he wanted any answers. His feet thundered through the house as he ran, and soon his trunk was making more noise as he pulled it downstairs. He didn't bother to say goodbye, none of them would have cared.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

On August 10th, Severus apparated to Grimmauld Place, with Potter clinging to his robes to avoid falling over. He pushed them to cross the street quickly, the sound of heavy wheels against pavement was loud on the empty street. The house was visible to them, but they knew the location fairly well and would have found it without the telltale shimmer of ward spells around the residence. He pushed the boy inside the door as soon as it opened, he did not want to be seen.

Potter retreated upstairs as soon as he was allowed, and Severus saw no reason pursuing the boy when there was a perfectly good alcohol cabinet in the parlor. The Black family's elf passed him once, muttering about mudbloods, blood traitors, and defilers, but he saw no one else for hours as he searched the house for a decent book to read. This was in no way any more of a picnic for him than it was for Potter.

When the boy finally came down, Severus was almost nine sheets to the wind and he was  _ not  _ looking forward to spending the next few weeks babysitting.

“Potter,” he called after the boy once he'd passed the parlor for the second time. The footsteps stopped, and timidly resumed as Potter obeyed the call. “What do you do to entertain yourself?” He asked as the boy appeared in the doorway.

“Clean.”

Severus was already shaking his head. “No, for fun. Do you have fun?”

The boy looked like he was working out some difficult arithmancy problem, but the answer was disappointing. “Not really.”

“You fly, and play Quidditch.” Severus pointed out, but the boy just shrugged.

“That doesn't count in the Muggle world.”

Severus studied the boy for a long heartbeat, then gestured for him to come closer. “We need to discuss a few things.”

“I expected that, sir.” Potter said quietly as he sat opposite Severus on the couch.

“Are you familiar with the changes happening to you?” He asked and then finished his drink. The boy shifted in his seat, as if he was uncomfortable with this line of conversation.

“I am now. I hadn't thought it could be something else.” Potter was saying and looking at the floor. “I just thought I had the Flu.”

“No, Potter. You and I cannot contract many Muggle viruses, our magic is akin to our immune system and acts as a barrier for many diseases that we would normally die from.”

“So, the cramps, and the- the  _ slick _ , they're part of the Heat?” The poor boy looked ready to faint.

“The slick, yes.” Severus nodded, and Harry turned a little green around the edges. “But the cramps will fade, your body is trying to accommodate extra reproductive organs that only you have. Female Omegas don't need to worry so much about presenting, as they naturally deal with the gift of nature every month, but male Omegas can and have died during the transition.” Dearest Merlin, alcohol really made this conversation less awkward, and more hilarious with each passing moment. If he wasn't careful, Potter would no doubt think this was some sort of sick joke.

“The-” Potter stuttered, and so did his confidence, but he continued on through his obvious fear. “The books didn't say much about how  _ often _ the- the Heats could be.”

Severus had to commend the boy for his courage. “It could be as often as every week, but it could also only happen three times a year. Each Omega is different.”

“And the Alphas?”

Severus narrowed his eyes at the boy. “We are each different also. Don't think all Alphas will try to claim you, for myself, I prefer an Omega who  _ obeys _ .” He said with an evil smirk, hopefully to deter the boy from asking about things he didn't want to hear yet. And it worked mostly, Potter turned red and looked away, as expected, but those green eyes returned with a fire in them that pulled at Severus’ insides. He was instantly reminded of Lily Evans, when she'd been determined to get all the Marauders back for pranking him.

“Personally,  _ sir, _ ” The boy said, with no small amount of snark in his voice. “I would want an Alpha who took care of me.”

He rose to that bait too easily, snarling aggressively until the fire in Potter's eyes died a bit. “Don't insult my abilities as an Alpha.” He warned, trying to calm down. “You would be hard put trying to find  _ anyone _ like me. For instance, you could live luxuriously with Draco Malfoy, but he is well versed in the old ways, and you would quickly become nothing more than a breeding tool. Or perhaps Augustus Parkly, Head of the Department of International Communications, whom I hear has no problem with beating every Omega he has ever owned. Yes, Potter,  _ owned. _ Because Omegas like you, in a world like this, become property. Alphas can be rather primitive, and instinctual in their aggression, but you would find that the world is no more fair to you than any other Omega who has the misfortune to present in families deeply rooted in the culture.”

How did this boy manage to crawl under his skin and gnaw at his nerves so well? What possibly made this any different to any other time he'd discussed this very subject with his students? It must just be Potter, and his uncanny knack for attracting Fate's meddling games.

“Furthermore,” he continued after a pause. “I am here as your guardian. I have no more interest in taking you as a mate, as I have in taking  _ any _ mate. My role is limited strictly to protect you from unwanted advancements and high-risk behaviour, and to chaperone any courting you allow.”

Potter looked properly admonished, but he was still brave enough to open his mouth and ask, “Dumbledore put this in place then? So I couldn't be hurt.”

Severus tilted his head, neither agreeing nor denying the boy's question. “He seems to think you would become a very large target. While that is true, there is no place safer for you than Hogwarts. And while  _ that _ is true, that does not mean you don't attract trouble, and trouble is what he's looking to avoid.”

“Why?”

“Because sexual relations, legal or not, are not permitted on the school grounds. It is a liability he doesn't want to risk, and forgive me, but you do smell like an Omega. You would attract unwanted attention without trying.”

When did the boy learn to grow up? Not half a year ago, Potter would have protested every insult and then retaliated with unfounded logic. Now, the damn thing was nodding his assent, and carefully picking his words. This was no fun.

“What else is changing? Will I be allowed to sleep in the dorms with Ron?”

Severus wrinkled his nose, the mere thought of that trouble-maker made him want to gag. “Truthfully, yes, but Albus would prefer to either separate you from the others, or put you in a girl's dorm.” He cleared his throat. “The girl's dormitories are protected from prying eyes, in the Slytherin dorms, I installed a very useful charm to mark would-be demagogue. The stigmata alone is enough to keep most respectable.”

“Bunking with Hermione, Lavender and Pavarti wouldn't be horrible.” Potter agreed. “The dorm would be cleaner.”

“And there's no chance you would impregnate any of them.”

Potter cracked the first smile Severus had seen that day. “But if I get my own dorms, I wouldn't be in the common rooms, right?”

“That is correct.”

This seemed to make Potter happier, bugger.

“So, I'd like my own dorm.” The boy said. “I know I might not get a choice, but the privacy sounds wonderful.”

Inclining his head, Severus tipped his glass in Potter's direction. “I'll put in a good word if you can manage to stay out from under my feet. I'm required to accompany you on any excursion you make, and, unfortunately, I must reside here for the time being.”

“Why?”

“There are things worse than Voldemort, and I dare not let you fall into that world.”

“Does the Ministry know I'm here?”

“Who do you think notified me of your transition? They know everything, including the fact that they have to remove the Trace from your person. As a full-fledged adult, you don't follow the conventional laws anymore.”

“Can you tutor me until we return to the school?”

Severus felt like the boy had been waiting to ask that all day. And it was getting harder for him to say 'no’ when he really didn't mean it. “Why?” He asked instead, and Potter looked like he was ready to burst out of his skin.

“I want to get better at duelling, and you're the best dueller I know.” The boy said, but Severus knew there was more he was unwilling to share.

“I will tutor you,” he answered, nodding. “If you agree to find something fun to do while I am busy.”

“Fine,” Potter stood, and looked around. “Maybe I'll clean.”

Severus narrowed his eyes, that was clever as fuck. “As long as that's not all you do. If I find out you're just working like your relatives live here, I will lock you in your room. You may be more clever than you've been letting on, but I'm the Head of Slytherin House. I've seen every trick you can pull.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

August 27th came far too quickly for Harry's liking. He'd been enjoying the freedom given to him by the huge house, and seeing Order members every once in a while made him feel light. Already, he could pick Snape's scent out of a crowd, and he could recognize the other Alphas and Omegas in the Order.

Remus and Tonks had already been married, but the scents coming off them told him they were bound to each other also. When Tonks found out about his second gender, she made a huge deal about his lack of knowledge. Even going so far as to show him the Claim Remus had made on her scent gland. He gawked at it and felt a little sick at first, but every day that he saw it, he grew that little bit more jealous.

Kingsley had also congratulated him, and confessed his Omega status. Frankly, Harry had been surprised to learn such a strong-looking man could be an Omega. The dark man just smiled when he'd shared this thought, and said, “Don't ever think that because you are the weaker gender, that you are inherently weak.” Then left him at the kitchen table with a conspiring wink.

Others had given him consolidations and congratulations, but that was it. There was no ceremony, no parade, no mobs forming to challenge his claim. It finally felt like he was completely normal.

But even that didn't last. Snape told him that the school would become as dangerous a place as the open streets for him, and he wasn't keen on finding out how dangerous that  _ was. _

Then the letter and school supply list came in.

“Potter, you're ruddy owl wouldn't leave me alone.” Snape said before literally throwing Hedwig into the room. She easily took to the air like that, and glided down onto the footboard of the bed, pecking at his fingers with a letter attached to her leg.

“Thanks!” He called as the man retreated back down the stairs. “Sorry if she ruined anything!”

Hedwig let out a long hoot and nuzzled against his wrist to get his attention.

“Hey, girl,” he said softly, grooming the feathers between her eyes. “What have you got?” She stuck out her leg to let him untie the letter. The Hogwarts seal was enough to make him panic.

“Snape!” He shouted, throwing his book aside to scramble out of bed and down the stairs.

“What are you yelling about, you imbecile?” Snape answered from the floor below. “I'm working on a volatile potion and, believe me, you do  _ not _ want that to explode all over your family tree.”

“Oh, sorry.” Harry stepped down the stairs lightly, three full days of arguing taught him that respect was absolutely necessary to brew potions. “The supply list came in.”

“Is that all?” The older wizard snapped. “Seriously, the things you teenagers find interesting are absolutely idiotic.”

“There will be more Alphas in the school, right?” Harry asked as he pushed open the drawing room door. Snape was standing with his back to the door, his wand arm up and moving as vials and bottles poured ingredients into a cauldron blocked from view by Snape's body. The room smelled like dust, foul-smelling potions, and an undertone of Snape's scent. The man was distressed.

“Yes, Potter. Have you already forgotten our first conversation this year?” Snape tsked.

“I didn't forget.” He said, drawing level with the Potions Master. He liked watching the man work, there was a certain method to it. “I'm asking because I wanted to let you know I've decided to stay separated.”

“That's one hell of a conundrum, asking to inform me. Is your brain hurting from this kind of thinking?” Snape growled, his movements becoming jerky and sharp.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, daring to look up at the man's face. Snape looked like he'd shut down, just like when Tonks showed her Claim mark to everyone, the man was trying to retreat.

“Yes.” Snape hissed. Then he jerked his wand arm sharply to the left and the vial flew into the wall. Snape stilled, his dark eyes staring straight ahead with a grim pinch to his lips. Harry was quick to throw up his mental shields, the first step to proper defense, in case he needed to flee. “No.” Snape said quietly. “No, I am not.”

Nodding, Harry realized this moment was one he should carefully think about his answer. “Do you want anything?” He asked timidly.

Snape twitched once, and then the life flowed back into his limbs and Harry watched as Snape literally deflated. “Tea, black. No sugar. Brew that stuff I just bought. The- the oolong.”

He ran off to do as he was asked. It took ten minutes, and he took his time climbing the two flights of stairs between him and Snape. He wondered once if this was just a fool's errand, if Snape had sent him to do this because he needed a moment to compose himself. Despite never having seen this kind of unbridled temper in the man before, he pushed the thought aside to concentrate on  _ not fucking up. _

Finally, he was back in the drawing room and Snape was cleaning up his cauldron.

“May I ask what was wrong with it?” He asked as he set the tea tray down.

“I added wormwood when I should have been using foxglove.” Snape answered curtly. “The wormwood is a first-year substitute for this potion, one that would increase the potency instead of shelf life.”

“Oh.” Harry took the cauldron and began cleaning the bottom with the scrub brush. Snape  _ scourgified _ his hands and went for the tea.

“I spent all night with that potion.” The man growled. “And there's something in the air that's driving me mad as hell.”

Harry froze. “I smelled it too.” He said quietly.

“At least it's not just me.” Snape said, triumphantly. “Is it you? Or am I insane for thinking that?”

Harry glanced over his shoulder. “It isn't me. I haven't even felt like I need anything.”

“If it's not you, then it's definitely some other Omega nearby.” Snape said, shaking his head. “I can't work like this. I need to fucking drink.”

Harry scrubbed the cauldron hard, trying not to think about sex, or Heats. Tonks had already made it hard enough to live around here, with her sickly sweet scent and doleful eyes… he was starting to hate the mousy-haired version of her.

“How are you?” Snape asked. “Damn thing has got to be driving you up the wall.”

“It's Tonks.” He said, and it clicked in his head. The demure look, the pervading scent, all pointed to an oncoming Heat. “That's why she won't stop showing off her mark, and keeps trying to get your attention.”

“She's gearing for a territory dispute, I don't have the time to squabble over a bound mate.” 

Harry cast a Watering charm to rinse out the cauldron, banished the remaining water, and dried the inside. He looked up at Snape as he dried his own hands, and the man looked like he was fighting off a headache.

“C'mon.” He said, tilting his head and walking out of the room. Snape followed him through to the backyard, where he made the man sit on the old wooden bench near the back corner. Then he sat down on the soil beside him.

“What's this?” Snape asked.

“Sometimes, when things were really bad at the Dursleys, the only place I could hide was the garden.” Harry said, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He sighed, but not out of any other feeling than contentment. “Mostly because my uncle didn't go into the garden, and I knew every nook I could fit in. I could hide for hours, or days, before they would think to look for me. But the flowers were beautiful, I got to pick them myself last year.”

“This is nothing like the garden at your uncle's.” Snape commented, like that was the most obvious issue in the vision Harry was trying to paint.

“My point is that just being around living things that don't require so much from you can be therapeutic, you arse.” He said, smiling, and nudged Snape's knee. “Just relax for a minute, and watch.”

Snape was silent, and Harry looked back to see if he was doing as requested. He was surprised to see that the man looked less severe in the sunlight. And those dark eyes were sparkling as they surveyed the quarter acre of untrimmed vegetation. Harry's chest swelled as the man slowly relaxed, enough that the knee he'd nudged now rested comfortably against his side.

Bees lazily droned through their work, rising and dipping through a sea of green. Birds chirped and sang to their offspring, cicadas buzzed high up in the trees. It was a nice day, one of the last of the year, and the sun was just at the right temperature for Snape in his long black attire.

“You were right.” Snape said softly, all irritation gone for the moment. “This is nice.”


	3. End of August, Beginning of September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sure, having Ron and Hermione with him in Diagon Alley was fun and safe, but Snape was almost always there. This time he was surrounded by pubescent Alphas and Omegas alike, all of whom thought their individual scent was better than the others’. It made him nauseous. And that confined them to one compartment where Harry absolutely had to open the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another really long chapter. But I couldn't let September stand on it's own. T.T  
> Also, I have to accredit Harry Potter: A Hogwarts Mystery for showing us the curriculums in the classes. Thank you, Jam City, you guys put a lot of thought into that game and I just freaking love it.   
> Again, if you like my work, leave a comment below about how I can improve, or just to say you really like it, cuz that somehow gets me up in the morning. XD

On August 28th, Snape insisted they get out of the house, and Harry brought up Diagon Alley again. He still needed the supplies, and Snape would be able to get away from the scent of rotted dairy and fruit, as he'd been describing. The acquiescence was unexpected, but he was happy to be able to see his friends and tell them he wouldn't be in the Gryffindor Tower any more.

Snape made him dress in his robes, then lengthened the hems so he didn't need to buy new school robes. He said magic was far more valuable than gold, never rely solely on money. It was a concept he understood well, since money had never been a huge part of his life.

London smelled different, no longer was the smoke and fog overwhelming. He could sense the Leaky Cauldron before they arrived on the street, it just pulled him in like a magical beacon from blocks away. Snape seemed to sense it, too, but he was far more comfortable with the city and that could've played a part in his sure steps and confident stride. The excitement he'd been feeling since they left mounted as they closed in.

The smells in the Leaky Cauldron were as varied as they were numerous. Even the beer had a scent, one that both nauseated and intoxicated him. He clung to the scent of Snape as they moved through the labyrinth of chairs and people, a trail happily followed to the basement. He held his breath as they passed what smelled like Alpha, under a thick layer of forest debris, and hurried behind Snape.

“Don't dally, Harry.” Snape said as they turned around a corner and descended a flight of steps. He tripped on his own foot as he looked up in shock, he'd never heard Snape use his given name. It was always  _ Potter this _ and  _ Mr. Potter that _ , but never just  _ Harry _ . Snape just continued on as if it were regular happenstance.

“Harry?” He heard from behind him, and he turned just in time to catch a handful of Hermione. She squeezed him tight around the neck and he almost buckled under the weight. He heard Snape sigh heavily. “It's so good to see you!” She yelled as she let him go.

“It's always wonderful to see you, too, ‘Mione.” He said, and looked back at Snape, who was choosing to ignore him.

“Professor Snape?” Hermione asked as she peered down the stairs, Snape blended in well with the shadows.

“Miss Granger, if you don't mind walking while you talk, I do have things to handle.” Snape said, sounding almost bored.

“I'm going with him.” Harry said quickly. “Tell Ron to meet me in Diagon Alley.” He turned and Snape took off. He ran to catch up.

Snape was already tapping the stones into the wall, and the entrance opened as he caught up. “If you wish to socialize, you don't have to follow me.” The man said before they stepped onto the secret street.

Harry clenched his jaw, this was going to be more difficult than he originally thought.

“You have your list, Potter. I suggest you start at the bookshop.” But Snape didn't move, it was as if he were actually  _ trying _ to give Harry freedom.

“Where are you going?” He asked without looking at the man.

“Potions. First years don't always know what to look for, and my stores have depleted since Slughorn left.”

He frowned. “I'll just go with you.”

“Why, Potter? Your friends obviously want to get you alone, no doubt to ask why you're following me like a lost pup.”

Harry finally dared to look up at Snape, to stare at him until the man became uncomfortable enough to look back. “You're my friend, too.” He said simply. He didn't know what else to say, since his birthday he'd seen no one else as regularly. Nobody stayed for dinner, or just sat in a room with him, no one but Snape. And somehow, this made the man quite valuable to him.

“I'm your guardian. And a teacher.” Snape pointed out, as if that was some sort of deal-breaker, and looked away. But not before Harry could see those well-used mental shields fall into place. “Go about your business, I will collect you when you are ready to return.” And then the man walked off, leaving Harry at the mouth of the Alley.

Slowly, he felt his body weigh itself down. Snape was a refreshing break from the friends he'd made before. He wasn't coy, or overly harsh, just truthful. He had no time to play games, unless it was to relax. He pushed himself, and everyone near to him, above and beyond the limits, no matter what was supposed to happen. Harry liked it, he didn't have to worry around Snape like he did with Ron and Hermione.

He meandered along the street, thinking about what he would tell them. With Snape, no topic was off-limits. What if they refused to engage with him once they learned of his gender-status?

Hermione found him minutes later, leaving  _ Flourish and Blotts _ with every book he would need for the year and then some. He shrunk his purchases like Snape showed him, and pocketed the bags when he saw Ron's hair in the crowds.

“Harry!” Hermione yelled and punched his arm when she approached. “What is the matter with you? You barely noticed us in the pub, and then you follow Snape into Diagon Alley? Why?”

“I can explain all of that.” He said. “But not out here.” Ron finally caught up to them and smiled wide.

“Harry! Mate, we tried to get you over at the Burrow this year, but McGonagall wouldn't let my mum anywhere near the house.” Ron said and clapped Harry on the back. “What's with that?”

“Guys, not here. C'mon.”

Harry led them down the street to the Owl Emporium, where almost no one was standing about, no one to overhear them. Still, he had to be careful, and he cast the  _ Mufflato _ charm over them.

“What's going on, Harry? We're not even allowed at the meetings anymore, we haven't been able to hear anything.” Hermione pushed once they were safe.

“Things changed over the summer.” Harry said, looking around and spotting Snape coming out of the potions shop. Snape looked around as he got out, saw Harry, nodded, and moved through the crowd until Harry lost him. “I don't live with my Aunt anymore. I had to be moved to Grimmauld, the blood wards are dead.”

“Oh my,” Hermione gasped. “Have you been there this whole time?”

“Yeah, but there's something else.” Both of them looked so scared, Harry had a hard time saying anything. “I'm not dying!” He ended up protesting.

“Good.” Ron sighed. “So? What is it, then?”

“We're your friends, Harry.” Hermione added.

He looked at them both, his first friends, the only two who believed him when he had nothing to prove it. He took a deep breath.  _ Here goes nothing, _ he thought to himself.

“I presented as an Omega, I can't stay in the dorms. I chose to stay in separate chambers, at least so I can relieve you both of having to protect me. I can't ask that of either of you.” He said, perhaps too quickly. He could see both of them were confused.

“Harry,” Ron said with a smile. “We're your family, I would've done it without being asked, y'know? Being an Omega isn't so bad.”

“I know,” Harry smiled. How could he have doubted them? “I just, I ask so much of you. This is one thing I thought I could handle.”

“Snape's your Guardian, huh?” The ginger boy whistled softly. “That's gotta be hard.”

“Okay, wait.” Hermione said, holding up a hand. “What is a Guardian?”

Ron grinned, as they realized this was something he  _ actually  _ knew more about than Hermione. “They're like special teachers for Presenters. Usually, they are the same gender-status so they can help you understand some of the weirder things. I didn't know Snape was an Omega, but who would mate with him anyway? They'd have to get past that harsh attitude first.”

“He's not an Omega, Ron.” Harry corrected, albeit a little irately. He checked himself and made a mental note to return to that and examine it, but then he pressed on. “Dumbledore nominated him, before his death.”

“So then, at least you have the second most powerful sorcerer in Britain protecting you.” Hermione shrugged. “Why is this something you needed to keep secret?”

“I'm not sure,” Harry slid his hands into his robe pockets. “But I have a really bad feeling.”

“Well, I would too if I were being checked out by Malfoy.” Ron said with disgust lacing his voice. “Oi, Harry, promise me you won't mate with that twit.”

He glanced around, but the silvery blonde hair was almost impossible to miss. He swallowed around a lump that formed in his throat and hoped Snape was somewhere nearby. “Ugh.” He groaned. “No, never.”

“Where is Snape? Shouldn't he be tailing every move you make?” Ron asked, drawing Harry's attention away from a confused, frowning blonde. He looked up and down the street, but Snape's usual shadow was nowhere to be seen.

“I dunno.” He admitted.

Hermione gripped his forearm and pulled on him. “C'mon, let's get our shopping done. We'll stay with you until we find him.” She said in his ear. Ron closed in on his otherside, and that was when he noticed it.

Malfoy was standing directly in front of him now, frowning still and curiously looking him over.

He swallowed hard, fighting the urge to smell the air for Snape. It was a sign of fear, and he was  _ not _ afraid of Malfoy. Hermione pulled him, while Ron pushed, but it was almost like they didn't exist in this silent battle.

“Potter.” Malfoy said in greeting.

“Malfoy.” He growled.

“Good to see you survived the first night.” Then the blonde left. He could still hear himself growling.

“Why do I get the feeling that isn't the last we'll see of him?” Ron groaned as they returned to the crowd. Harry said nothing, afraid that his voice would give away how terribly scared he'd been in those moments.

They continued shopping, and some people gravitated towards him on accident, bumping him and touching him in some way. Ron played big brother very well, shouldering most people away. But others were deterred by the scent of another Alpha clinging to him. That was enough to have him chipper and radiating happiness. When they finished, they stopped at  _ Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor _ and Harry was caught up in everything that had happened to his friends over the summer. Soon, but somehow not soon enough, Snape hovered at the door to the parlor and Harry had to contain his relief.

Then Hermione noticed him. “Why don't we invite him over here?” She asked, and Harry had the feeling she was watching his reaction specifically.

“He wouldn't.” He answered without looking away from the shadow near the entrance.

“That's good, right?” Ron wondered, his mouth full of pastry. Harry shrugged, he really didn't want to ruin the day by arguing.

“You spend all your time with him, Harry. He should be rather used to you by now.” Hermione pointed out, ignoring Ron completely. Harry shrugged again.

“I gotta go, I'll see you guys soon.” He said, getting up and pushing his chair in. He crossed the room, left the shop, and Snape followed close behind him.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

On September 1st, Severus was safe behind his dungeon walls. The Welcoming feast wouldn't start for hours, and Potter was ensconced away on the Hogwarts Express. He felt rather triumphant in having dealt with the boy for a whole month without blowing up. But he had to give Potter some credit, the boy had grown up quite a lot in the few months since Dumbledore's funeral.

Ruminating on that brought his thoughts to the elder wizard, and his ability to meddle from beyond the grave. Even his death had been carefully orchestrated by himself, and Severus personally thought the ordeal was well-thought out. Voldemort couldn't have predicted these turns Albus had made.

Severus was mostly glad that his own soul had been spared in the crossfire. Lestrange's impulsiveness really did make his job easy, and to have her out of the way opened up his role considerably. He didn't think he would survive the war without it.

The clock above his fireplace chimed the hour. Four o'clock in the afternoon. The train would arrive in two hours, by then the sun would have set and he would soon be making the first rounds of the year. Minerva thought he would be able to perform his Guardian duties better if he was given the early shifts, little did she know that he never planned on lagging. Potter had been his charge since the boy was born, and not once had he  _ not _ been able to help Potter in some way.

He would just have to manage it better this time.

Two hours, long enough to brew a Wiggenweld potion, long enough to kill the boy, dump his body off the train, and go home in time for tea. Too long, in his opinion. Shouldn't the Seventh Years be learning Apparation anyway?

His wards signalled a passersby, and he waited quietly for them to continue on. He wanted these few hours to himself, to shower or to sleep, he didn't know which.  He sighed and leaned back against his desk chair.

What if Potter  _ did _ find a mate here in the school? His time would then be taken up by outings he didn't ever want to be privy to, and Potter's likely would-be mate would be some obnoxious thing. His bet was on Miss Lovegood, despite her unusual way of displaying dominance. He felt the phantom headache already.

This may finally be the year that makes him quit.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry was a little afraid to be on the train without Snape, actually, not that he would admit that to  _ anyone _ .

Sure, having Ron and Hermione with him in Diagon Alley was fun and safe, but Snape was almost always there. This time he was surrounded by pubescent Alphas and Omegas alike, all of whom thought their individual scent was better than the others’. It made him nauseous. And that confined them to one compartment where Harry absolutely  _ had _ to open the window.

Neville and Luna joined them, and Harry had to open the window more to let Luna's Alpha scent out. But she just smiled at him in that dreamy way, and sat beside Hermione to give him room. He was glad for it, they'd never had to really say anything to know each other pretty well, and she seemed to just want his company.

They stayed relatively light in conversation, but it didn't last long when Luna pointed out that Malfoy had made his third pass by their compartment.

“Bugger.” Ron cursed, as he stood to pull the blinds.

“It's okay,” Luna said quietly. “He won't come in here.”

“Why not?” Harry asked her, leaning forward as Ron sat back down. Hermione rolled her eyes and engaged the ginger in homework planning.

“Because he's too shy.” Luna smiled. “I would be, too, if I were thinking about you.”

Harry pursed his lips together, keeping his scathing comment to himself, and sat back. He looked out the window at the rainy countryside passing by.

“Harry,” Neville whispered to him, and he turned away from his thoughts. “how has it been so far? Y'know, as an Omega.”

He stared for a moment, no one had asked him how he was yet. It surprised him that it came from the meekest of their group. “It's been weird.” He admitted quietly, thumbing the hem of his robes.

“And Snape's not being a total arse, right?”

Neville's smile made him warm inside and he grinned back. “No, he's been rather nice to me. He's still a grumpy, bat-like bastard but he's not inconsiderate.”

“I knew it.” Neville chuckled. “He's a great big softy.”

Harry's grin widened, but he shook his head. “It's been an interesting month, to be honest. Tonks went into Heat and it pissed him off, but he wasn't as horrible as everyone thinks. After the scent faded, he didn't talk a lot, so we spent a lot of time reading.”

Neville just shook his head, and Harry wondered if he thought Snape would have been a complete nightmare. “If I were any smarter, I'd say he likes you.” Neville said suddenly, and Harry was shocked.

“No way.” Harry said, trying to find some example to prove the other boy wrong.

“He likes you enough to stay with you for a month. I think he would've killed you if not.” Neville pointed out. “Think he's gonna go easier on us this year?”

Harry shook his head, Snape would rather be caught dead than giving any House points to Gryffindor. “He's not about to let any of us pass his class either, except maybe ‘Mione.”

“Just because I spent  _ my _ summer reading over last year's material…” Hermione said suddenly. And Harry laughed.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the train stopped, Severus watched Hagrid gather up the first years, waiting for Potter to step off the train. It seemed the boy had taken his advice and waited to stay in the back of the group, away from prying eyes and grabbing hands. His group of friends seemed to close in around him, with the Weasley at the front. Gryffindors always protected the pride, and Potter was no exception, Severus supposed that may be the only  _ redeemable _ quality from that House.

Potter's group stayed back, waiting for everyone else to pick carriages. Severus noticed a group of his own Slytherins ( _ basically fucking around _ ) hanging near Potter's group, but they seemed too truly busy with catching up to notice what Severus had smelled as soon as the train doors opened.

Maybe he was a little more paranoid than he ought to be.

No, logically, it was because he had spent so much  _ time _ with the boy that he could pick that scent out of a crowd.  _ Logically _ , he was paranoid because he was still trying to spy in the the Dark Lord's Inner Circle. This was all Potter and Dumbledore's fault.

His peace shattered, his plans laid to waste, his security compromised, all in a matter of twenty years. He hated his life.

With all the students safely on board the carriages, Severus watched as Thestrals pulled them to the Castle. Then he Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts and strode inside to sit at the Head Table of the Great Hall. He was among the first to enter, with Sinistra on his left and three seats away, and Sprout just a seat further. Minerva wouldn't arrive until the First Years had been escorted over the lake, so he wasn't pressed to socialize. And he took great comfort in  _ that _ , at least.

The Great Hall gradually filled, and with it the volume increased. He began memorizing his curriculums for the year,  _ First Years - Cure for Boils, Wiggenweld, Sleeping Draught, and an Herbicide Potion _ .

The volume increased again, and he looked up as Malfoy Jr. seated himself at the Slytherin table. He made eye contact,  _ Second Years - Fire-Breathing Potion, Strengthening Solution, Fire-Protection Potion, Swelling Solution _ . If Malfoy wanted to listen in, he'd be sore to hear what Severus was thinking. And Longbottom had even managed to make the  _ Fire-Protection Potion _ melt the copper cauldrons, he smirked to himself. Some just never had the inclination to follow instructions.

_ Third Years - Forgetfulness Potion, Doxycide, Wideye Potion, Antidote to Common Poisons. Fourth Years - Skelegro, Ageing Potion, Pepper-Up Potion, Calming Draught, with extra lessons for Shrinking Solution, Weedosoros, Beautification Potion, and Befuddlement Draught. Fifth Years - Hair-Raising Potion, Draught of Peace, Deflating Draught, Wit-Sharpening Potion, Erumpent Potion… _ Potter's laughter broke through his concentration, yet another thing he'd grown used to, and he had to throw up shields instead to keep his mind private. He didn't look over to the Gryffindor table, not like everyone else in the room, and  _ when  _ did the Great Hall become so full?

Instead, he busied himself with marking the trouble-makers, would-be bullies, and generally casing the returning students. Potter laughed again, and he nodded to cover the instinctual urge to be watchful of the Omega. Nymphadora's Heat had jarred him slightly, it was unexpected, and normally he would have retreated for the month just to get away from the pheromones in the fabrics of the old house. It brought out a side of him he'd tried to put away a long time ago, and now it has left restlessness in its wake.

He tried to shake himself before he dared to glare in Potter's direction, fearing he might be off his game. But the moment he  _ did _ look over Potter was already staring at him.

Potter's eyes flicked to the right, then back, as the boy tried to follow whatever his friends were engaging him in. He tilted his head in acknowledgement, then scanned the room for eyes looking in Potter's direction. There were a few at the Hufflepuff table, the drama queens, a lot at the Ravenclaw table, predictable, and then just Malfoy at the Slytherin table. He made sure to make mental note of each one, so he could inform Minerva at her earliest convenience.


	4. October

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape was still. As if any movement would break everything around him. And Harry was about to give up. There was no way he could express how important this had become, how terrified he was nowadays, how he felt like a moving target in his favorite place in the whole world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the long wait. I was looking for underwear to give to the underpants gnomes.  
> Uh, thank you all for your comments and kudos and bookmarks and stuff! Really means a lot to see you guys like this. So yeah, keep leaving comments and stuff and I'll try to answer to the best of my ability.

At the beginning of October, Severus had been tired and nearly dropped his robe sleeve in a  _ Swelling Solution _ , to wit, he still had to fix the hem because the stitching would not shrink.

Now, on October 13th, he was finally sitting in his personal chambers, reclining in his couch of fine cotton, and just  _ existing _ . He'd gone through five midnight meetings with the Dark Lord already, and then the thousands Minerva had requested of him at her whim. Some were Order meetings, but others were just to update her on the students. He was exhausted and virtually unable to move.

He even ignored a lot of calls to his office, most likely students wanting to ask about their homework, in favor of this very quiet, very relaxing moment.

Of course, it was doomed from the start.

“Severus, there is something you must do for me.” Minerva said as she burst through his door, regardless of the password. He groaned audibly, she learned too much from Albus, and he was beginning to  _ really _ consider retirement.

“What is it?” He asked gruffly, refusing still to get up and move his tired bones. The Headmistress hovered over him at the back of the couch, then she leaned in to touch his forehead. He swiped at her hand. “Get off me, woman. I'm fine.” He said without bite.

She pursed her lips, and her mouth took on her famous thin grimace. “You don't look fine, but if you insist….” She waved over him. “I need you to find Harry.”

“How do you mean? The boy has been attending classes, and meals, what more can you ask of him?” Severus said with a deep sigh. He'd been watching more than usual, and while Potter had been absent from the public lately, it hadn't affected his grades. “He's most likely in the Library, where he should be studying for his N.E.W.T.s, which is a surprising turn around for him.”

“His companions claim he is not sleeping in his quarters, and that he is being very close with his feelings. This is obviously textbook withdrawal.”

Severus lifted his arm and draped it across his face. “Did you check his chambers?” He asked, already bored. Potter was doing alright, there must be an explanation for this behaviour. It was N.E.W.T. year, of course all the Seventh Years were going to be frazzled.

“I did check in with Finga, and she hasn't seen him since the first night. Severus, please take this seriously. That boy shouldn't be out on the grounds by himself.” Minerva said, pushing at his arm. It fell across his chest and he sighed as if he were very put upon by this.

“Fine, but now you owe me  _ one _ week to myself, to do with however I choose.” He snapped and sat up, his back and knees popping in protest. “I did my rounds tonight, so I am only going to be looking for the boy. I will not be distracted by wayward rule-breakers.”

Minerva clicked her tongue, and clasped her hands in front of her robes, as if she were going to lecture him. He rolled his eyes, and ignored her in favor of pulling his overcoat on.

“If, by some chance, the boy is ill, bring him to my office instead of the infirmary. The less the students see him, the more often we can keep him off the rumor mill.” Minerva tutted, and strode out the still open door. He sighed, thinking back to the days when she was merely Deputy Headmistress, and all those years they spent as friends. He should apologize, tell her he  _ is  _ in fact trying to handle his responsibilities. Tell her how tired he is, and how being a double-spy has affected him. There were a lot of things he  _ should _ do.

Instead, he left his own chambers at her request.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry hated being back.

Hermione had not stopped talking about their new homework schedule, and Ron wasn't fighting it anymore. He was left holding the stick, arguing a moot point when he'd already been doing his homework on a daily basis. It was infuriating to hear that his own efforts were not  _ good enough _ for her, so he stopped studying with her.

Instead of the library, where everyone knew Hermione spent most of her time, he changed the Room of Requirement to fit his needs. At first, it started as a desk and a chair in a dimly lit room made of dark stone. It was all he thought he would need, but the week passed and he realized he would have to borrow books from the library. The Room changed to accommodate, adding books on every subject in Hogwarts in a neat, five-shelf bookcase.

He knew it wasn't normal to spend so much time in the Room, but he desperately needed a place his friends wouldn't find.

Two weeks in, Hermione had yelled at him about not taking care of his education. He didn't understand what she meant, his grades were high, even in Potions. And he couldn't even take credit for it! Snape helped him review the last six years over the last month of summer, he wasn't in desperate need of tutoring. He thought it had been a good thing.

Then she started coming around his separated chambers. She woke him up every morning, which he didn't need, and then she proceeded to escort him everywhere he went. As if she was making sure he was doing his work.

Finally, he was fed up. He changed the password to his chambers, and spent more and more time in the one place she couldn't find without his help.

He supposed that was how it started.

Without his friends, he walked with a blaring target on his person. Alphas aplenty tried to corner him in the less occupied sites of the castle, but his new-found appreciation for magic had opened a myriad of charms and jinxes to dole out. He even got Malfoy with a particularly vindictive  _ Jelly-Legs _ curse, allowing him to make it to the seventh floor with ease regardless of his beating heart.

The two Alphas who basically wanted nothing to do with him, were Luna and Snape.

And thinking about Snape brought a whole other load of issues to deal with that he still wasn't ready to examine.

So, he stayed pretty close to the Gryffindor tower, for the protection, but far enough away that Hermione had to truly search for him. It remained that way for a few weeks, and the Room adjusted to accommodate his need for sleep and food.

And then he made the mistake of returning to his own chambers.

“Harry!” He heard as he turned down the corridor to his rooms. He couldn't see rightly who it was, but he stepped to the side and made to move on. Hermione's hand on his wrist stopped him, but he wrenched away quickly and kept walking. She seemed to give up, and he could hear her crying, but he couldn't turn back.

“Mr. Potter.” Another voice said just in front of him. He almost ran into the man in the shadows.

“Snape.” He greeted boredly, and turned down another corridor.

“Granger, go to bed. And watch out for Flich on the third floor.” Snape called out from behind him. He really needed to find a way to escape. Now. “Where do you think you're going?” Snape asked harshly, grabbing him by the elbow and pulling him around.

“I assumed you would want to yell at me in your office.” He shrugged, pulling away. Snape held tight.

“I think Finga has been waiting for you for far too long, Potter. Go, open your chambers.” Snape released him then and he sighed. There was no way he was getting out of this.

He walked back down towards his rooms, Hermione was barely fifty feet away, still crying. His heart twisted, he'd caused that pain, he swallowed around the lump in his throat to speak. “ _ Tartareum mysterium. _ ” he said to the painting quietly and pushed inside.

The woman in yellow in the painting huffed at him, Snape stopped to exchange a few words, and then the door closed.

“You want to start?” Snape asked, but there was no anger in his voice. Harry felt like he was in a detention anyway.

“I'm not entirely sure as to the  _ nature _ of your visit.” Harry said carefully, setting his book bag down on the couch. “But I can assume it's because Hermione told you to talk to me?”

Snape said nothing, so Harry turned around, and the man was blank-faced.

“Minerva asked me to look for you.”

“Oh.”

Snape tilted his head, and Harry could only interpret it as a pass. “She has informed me that you haven't been here,” at this point Snape gestured to the room. “Since the beginning of the term. Care to explain?”

Huffing, he threw his school robes onto the couch. “I'm capable of taking care of myself.”

“Potter, we discussed this….”

“Yeah?” He felt the anger rise in his chest, a feeling he hadn't been able to produce lately. It was refreshing. “You said it would be  _ easy _ to avoid others, and to focus on my school work. But Hermione is on my ass about studying, and almost every Alpha has cornered me in some way. You said that I would be safe!”

“You are safe, Potter.”

Harry snarled. “Don't lie to me.”

Snape took one step back, as if he were afraid of Harry, and that hurt him more than anything. “Potter, you think you haven't been watched. But I know you spend your time in the come-and-go room, I have heard every argument between you and Miss Granger. I even sent Draco to detention with Filch so you could make it to your rooms at night without being accosted.

“If you think I would intentionally take up this responsibility, only to abandon you at your most vulnerable, you hardly know anything.”

“Then, why haven't you spoken to me? Or even  _ looked _ at me?” Harry almost couldn't finish, his voice broke halfway through. And though he didn't know  _ why _ Snape was suddenly so important to him, he couldn't get rid of the feeling of being let down. “I have been to your office more times than I care to count. You're never there.”

Snape was still. As if any movement would break everything around him. And Harry was about to give up. There was no way he could express how important this had become, how terrified he was nowadays, how he felt like a moving target in his favorite place in the whole world.

“Harry,” Snape said, and Harry looked up. Snape held out his hands, a surrendering gesture. “I've no excuses that would make this any better.”

“I know! That's what makes me so  _ mad _ .”

“I know you've been under a lot of stress, but you know how to reach me. You know that people are watching you. You  _ know _ that your behaviour of late is more than a little concerning.” Snape sighed heavily, and Harry felt even more horrible for putting the man into more stress.

“I'm sorry.” He said.

“No,” Snape snapped at him. “You are scared, don't be apologetic for being human. Utilize the safety nets put before you. That is how you make it up to me.” The man pinched the bridge of his nose, and Harry wondered if Snape had a headache. “And please, come see me tomorrow. I may not be in until late. My personal chambers are connected to your fire, the password is  _ Vitam aut Mortem _ .”

“Okay.” Harry said meekly.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

October 14th proved to be a long and arduous day. Not once did he complain, much, but it seemed that Fate wanted him to have the short-end today. Between First years with an inability to follow instructions, and Potter's moodiness, Severus would say this might be the worst day of his adult life.

“Longbottom, for the love of Merlin, do  _ not _ put that in your cauldron.” He called out from his desk. The poor boy jumped at the sound of his voice and he sighed. “Use the asphodel.”

He could feel Potter's eyes on him the entire class, but he refused to acknowledge it yet. He was a professional, not some teenager whose feathers were so easily ruffled.

The classroom was otherwise quiet; just the sounds of knives against cutting boards, stirring rods tapping rims of pewter cauldrons, and quills scratching on parchment. He almost relaxed, the ambiance was truly soothing.

And then the classroom exploded into screams, shouts, and the sizzle of a botched Erumpent potion.

He sighed again, but it was pained. “Longbottom, 30 points from Gryffindor for not following instruction.” He yelled over the din of the room. “Anyone not affected, dismissed.”

Students filed out of the room, all eager to avoid his inevitable wrath, but he really couldn't be bothered. His task now, was to help those in need of attention, and for that he would need the dittany and a certain level of control.

He passed his wand over the tables and chairs as he moved through to the most affected, which just so happened to be Weasley, Finnigan, and Lovegood.

“You three,” he said with a flat tone. “My desk. Wait, and I'll be with you momentarily.”

“This bloody effing HURTS!” Weasley wailed.

“Ten points from Gryffindor, if you had been watching your classmate more closely, you would have been able to either stop Mr. Longbottom or move out of the way in time.” He snapped.

A throat was cleared and Severus half-turned to find Potter at his side. “Sir, take care of the others.” The boy said, and immediately took out his holly wand. “I can clean this up.”

He blinked, but Potter was still there. And he was performing an almost perfect  _ scorgify _ .

“Fine, but don't miss anything. And don't touch it, it's corrosive.” He huffed then pointed at his desk. “If I don't see students at the front of the class, I'll be taking more points.”

The two boys scurried to the front of the room, where Lovegood had been standing for the entire encounter. Severus ignored everything else around him, medical attention in the Wizarding World required concentration, otherwise the students would most likely burst out in boils or acne. He retrieved the dittany, and some bandages, and set them out on his desk.

“Weasley,” he called. The ginger instantly blocked his view of Potter banishing the yellowish slime covering his classroom. He was grateful, but he wouldn't ever admit that to the Weasley boy. “This will sting.” He warned as he dripped the healing poultice over the boy's face.

Surprisingly, the red-head was still and, well, rather brave. Not many would take a highly flammable potion to the face without crying, and even less while under dittany. Potter chose his friends fairly well.

Finnigan was not as easy, he squirmed and yelped and hissed whenever Severus applied the paste. He really didn't care about the staining in the boy's hair, or the fact that Finnigan was only complaining because he was missing a free period. Luna Lovegood was a whole other story.

She waited for the two boys to be patched up, all the while humming to herself a tune that was vaguely familiar if not for the key being horridly off. And when he sent the others away, she just smiled at him in that distracted way.

“Professor,” she greeted.

“Miss Lovegood, you don't seem to be affected as much as the others.” He said, gently.

“My hands, sir.” She held them out and the blisters were almost unsightly. “Isn't it kind of gorgeous?” He raised one eyebrow.

“How did that happen?”

She hummed, still looking at her own hands. “Pulling Neville out of the way.”

He looked up, aiming to memorize the placement of his students before the accident. Lovegood was across the room, well away from the radius of the explosion. Why would she race to Longbottom's side in such a manner?

Potter caught his gaze, and the boy looked just as surprised.

“Well, then. Twenty points to Ravenclaw.” He said, his voice gruff and he almost wanted to clear his throat. “May I?” He asked while holding out his hand for hers.

She smiled wider, and cheerfully placed her hands atop his, her red, oddly-shaped earrings glittering in the low light.

“I think I might have found my mate, sir.” She said openly, making Severus glance up in surprise. The girl had never spoken to him before, he wondered what changed.

“They should be rather lucky, I say.” He muttered, smirking at her a little.

“I think you did, too.” Her blue eyes were rather deep, like two oceans of secrets. Severus pulled away a bit, he had no idea how well-versed in Legilimency the girl was, but he wasn't about to let her in his head. That was always a dangerous thing. “You don't know it,” she smiled again, that dreamy,  _ creepy _ , smile. “But you deserve them. They'll make you happy.”

“Go to your next class, Miss Lovegood.” He said, straightening his back. “I recommend a Quick-Quotes quill for the next few hours.”

“Mmkay. Bye, Harry!” The blonde called, and Potter waved at her.

The door shut, closing the school out and locking Severus in his comfort. He sighed, rubbing his brow. Having never encountered that girl outside the Great Hall and classes, he was rather shell-shocked at her aloofness.

“Is that normal?” He asked out loud, his eyes screwed shut against the migraine building behind them.

“What? Luna? Yeah.” Potter shrugged. “Usually it's not as intense.”

He grunted, a tired sound, and leaned against his desk. “What are you doing here?” He asked.

Potter's shrug had always been infuriating. “I live and go to school here.” And there, there was that  _ annoying _ smile, like the boy was immensely pleased with himself. Ugh.

“Potter,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

“I know, I know. Not today.” Potter's grin vanished slowly. “I wanted to help, no one else was going to.”

A snort was not how he would've described his response, but it was awfully close. “We both know why, don't go martyring yourself over it.” He sighed. “Do you have a class this period? I can write you a note.”

“No, I dropped Divination. It didn't make any sense, and I got tired of every day being a death prediction.” Potter shook his head. Severus had to agree, the whole subject seemed far-fetched even for the Wizarding World.

“Sybil has never been truly gratifying, no.” He said aloud. “What about your friends? They must be worried.”

The boy shrugged, fidgeting with something on the hem of his robe sleeves. “Yeah, but I dunno. I just don't want to fight anymore.”

“Then, talk instead.”

Potter looked at him for a long moment, one he could put down in a list of Top Ten uncomfortable moments in his classroom. “No offense, Snape. But I am.” The boy said as if he didn't understand. That was irritating enough on its own, but it did make him stop to wonder why, after two whole months, the boy was  _ suddenly _ so irritating.

“I assume this is supposed to be where I apologize and ask you to continue, but as I am  _ so very curious _ , why don't you go ahead and explain what you mean to be doing here?” He said, careful to keep his tone extremely level. If his beginning suspicions were correct, he did  **_not_ ** want to die because he couldn't control his anger.

Potter's stare turned into a full-fledged glare. “I'm trying to talk to someone I trust, with the entirety of my being.” The boy said. “You haven't been very available, so I'm trying to accomodate to your schedule that way we can still talk to each other.”

“Harry,” Severus began softly, holding his hands open and away from his wand. “I greatly appreciate your efforts.”

“But?”

He sighed. “I have a class in fifteen minutes. You can stay, but you would have to do your homework. It would be unwise to allow you to practice brewing outside your appointed class time. Especially during your Seventh Year.”

“I can do that.” Potter's demeanor deflated, gone was the irritation and the burden of isolation. It left behind a tired, but refreshing smile that Severus felt compelled to return with a grimace of his own.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

The days were starting to blend together somehow, not that Harry minded. The debacle with Hermione ended swiftly when he explained to her that she was being overbearing, which led to her bursting out in tears for no apparent reason. She blamed her massive workload, and a lack of sleep, for her anxiety.

As homework piled up, his free periods were spent in Snape's classroom with his head buried in his books. He hardly noticed the students in Snape's classes, and likewise, they gave him the quiet he needed. Snape wasn't seeming to mind, all except practical studies that he was required to do on his own. And Harry was slowly starting to admire the way Snape took no shit from the younger students. He even adapted some of that sharp wit when dealing with other Alphas when they approached him.

One wasn't all that put off by it though, and it intrigued him that they wouldn't let up but wouldn't corner him either. And all Harry knew was that he was in Ravenclaw house.

The worst part was now how Ginny followed him after classes and dogged his every step.

Ending their short-lived relationship had been a matter of preservation, he had no idea what would happen when Dumbledore died. He fully expected to have to go underground and hide from Voldemort, to run away from Hogwarts at any moment. So far, none of this has come, so now he wondered what to do with the fiery red-head that he had thought he'd been in love with.

And with her not presenting, Harry would face a childless marriage with her.

He stewed on it for weeks before he confronted her with his dilemma.

“Well,” she looked like she would pout or throw a hex. “We can figure that out. I don't want to give this up.”

“I don't  _ want  _ to figure it out right now!” He yelled, knowing this would draw attention from their classmates. “I'm more concerned with whether I'm going to  _ live  _ tomorrow, I can't worry about this. I have too much to deal with, and this is trivial in comparison.” Then he stormed off to his free period with Snape. She didn't follow.

That night, he'd traded one friend who's mad at him for another.

Of course, though, Ron would take anything his sister said too far and fight her battles for her. The Common room turned into a shouting arena between them, and Harry left steaming. He didn't return to the tower.

But he sat at the Gryffindor table for meals, and that happened to be where Ron made his next stand.

“Is my sister not  _ good enough _ for you, Saint Potter?” He sneered down the table to where Harry sat, minding his own business and managing to eat and read at the same time.

Neville sat with him, which was nice, because the other boy said nothing when Ron made his outburst. He ignored the other Gryffindors and nearby students, who all gawked at him and Ron.

There was some commotion, but he ignored that too. He really wanted an Outstanding in Potions, it was the key to all his career choices. He could hear Hermione's voice get louder, and then Ron was shouting over her. Harry looked up in time to catch Hermione slapping Ron in the face and then she ran off without her book bag.

“Guess that relationship is over.” Neville muttered, stabbing his fork into his plate of potatoes.

“This is just childish.” Harry said with a shake of his head. “There is a war going on, and he can't even stop thinking about  _ breeding _ for long enough to realize that we all might die tomorrow.” He'd been keeping up with the Prophet, and Minerva had invited him to numerous meetings with the Order, Voldemort was on the move and looking for something. Harry was concerned with finishing his schooling by the time the chips fell and he could make the best of his situation then. Snape pointed out that he did best under that sort of pressure, albeit not as kindly.

“Some would argue that's why he should be so worried. The first war was uncertain, lots of people married and had kids to carry on their names.” Harry looked up at Neville, and the once-meek boy suddenly turned into a war-hardened man before his eyes.

“I wouldn't want my children to grow up in fear that I might die.” Harry shared, this might be his only opportunity to defend himself without repercussion. “I don't want what happened to us to repeat with them.”

Neville hummed at him as he chewed. Harry realized that he meant exactly what he said as he waited, and his determination to uphold it solidified in him. “That's because you know it's all or nothing, and maybe it is for you. But for some, they just want to live their lives and they will do everything to make it happen.” Neville pushed his food around his plate as he talked, and Harry watched him.

“That doesn't mean I have to do that.”

“No, it doesn't, Harry.” Neville smiled and Harry found himself smiling back naturally.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you have a mate, Snape?” Potter asked between classes. Severus wanted to snap, that it was none of the boy's business, but he took one look at the boy and decided against it.

“No. I thought I would, but your mother presented as an Alpha.” He admitted, setting down his own quill to take a break from grading essays. “It was not something either of us had expected.”

“But you still loved her, right?”

Severus picked up the uncertainty in Potter's voice. “Yes, but I wasn't  _ in love _ with her. She was my only friend for many years, and I tried desperately to keep her by my side. Why does this interest you?”

Potter shrugged half-heartedly. “It's nothing really. But hearing about my mum is nice.”

Severus raised his eyebrows, then nodded with a frown. “I would think Lupin would have stories of her.”

“Yeah, but you grew up with her.” Potter's eyes rested on him lightly, and they held an intensity all their own. “Remus always has nice things to say about people. I don't really think he knew her that well, and I heard a lot about my dad.”

Severus felt his insides cringe, he had been one of those unlucky multitudes to compare the boy to his father. But the mere idea that he could feel this remorse meant he'd learned so much more than he supposed he should have. “Your mother was exceptional at Potions,” he started, clearing the lump in his throat. “She actually tutored me. Before her, I didn't have the patience to perfect Potions. I was much better at Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“If there was one thing you  _ should _ know about her, it would be that she was tenacious and wise. Yes, she was smart, but she knew how to use it to her advantage. I always thought that was a good reason to put her in Slytherin, but the Hat chose to focus on her bravery and the way she treated others.” Severus paused. He almost said  _ much like you _ but it would seem unprofessional, and Severus simply couldn't let the boy under his skin like that. There was too much at stake. He let the silence stretch until Potter shifted in his seat.

“So, I'm more like her, is what you're saying?” Potter questioned. Severus could spot a lure like that a mile away, but he picked it up anyway, what harm  _ could _ it do?

“I suppose you could say that, yes.” Severus bit his tongue. “But you're still arrogant, and reckless. Much like your  _ father. _ ”

“Sirius said he saved your life, is that why you hold so much hate for him?” Potter pointed out, innocently. 

_ Where _ was this boy getting all this critical reasoning he lacked in class?

He outright stared at the boy, but he couldn't find a reason why he didn't deserve to know. Except that Voldemort  _ could _ draw the information from the boy's head, but Severus made certain in August to resume Occlumency as Albus had requested. Whether Potter actually used it was not in his hands.

“Yes.” He admitted. “It is petty, I know. But I have my own reasons to hate needing help from that tw-  _ your father. _ ” He grit out between grinding teeth. If he wanted Potter to trust him, low blows would not be the way to do that.

Potter was nodding, which Severus thought was a good sign.

“Look, Potter. I don't carry that hate as heavily as it would seem.”

“I know. And don't worry about Voldemort,” Potter's frown told him that the boy was truly growing out of being his father's shadow.

“Why does all this interest you now? You could have asked back in Grimmauld.”

Potter shrugged, and began to fidget with the quill in his hand. The tip was wet from the boy chewing on it, Severus felt a disgusted shiver wrack his body. He had to really focus to hear the boy. “-and Ron wants me to make up with her so we can be brothers, but I can't  _ stay _ with her. I want kids, and Betas won't know what to do when I hit my Heat. She would be better off with someone else, but they won't let it go.”

“Betas?” Severus asked.

“Oh, it's a new word for the people who don't present. Betas are like the normal populace, and it's almost like saying  _ we're _ not normal. But I don't really care, as long as I can have kids, and I have much bigger things to worry about.” Potter threw his quill down and ran a hand through his hair. He seemed genuinely distressed.

“Harry, I hate to say this, but this is just teenage angst. Both of the Weasleys could easily just be okay with you wanting to wait for the war to be over, but they seem to be suffering from the need to do these things before they die. Some think they might die tomorrow.” He didn't admit that he was one of those people, but he did let Potter see how tired the idea made him.

The boy wasn't looking at him, instead he was picking at his nails, looking like he swallowed a Billywig sting. The silence stretched out, and Severus assumed the conversation was over, he turned back to the essays on his desk and glowered. As if that would make the essays go away, or maybe just the awkwardness in the air.

“Shouldn't I be doing the same?” Harry inquired softly, he might've been hoping to be quiet enough to let it gloss over in the dark room. But Severus was quick, and his ears were as sharp as ever.

“That is a matter of opinion, Harry.” He said almost as softly, and Potter's grin was enough to settle his own ruffled feathers.


	5. December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The torture was bearable in comparison, all he had to do was shut off the part of him that wanted to scream, and the Dark Lord would move onto lesser prey. He always felt like a despicable human being afterwards, and once upon a time, he would've gone to the Headmaster's office for solace. Now, he was alone in his own chambers, tired, weak, and shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, damn that last chapter was hard on me for some reason, cuz this one kind of flew by me. I'm not even sure I was the one writing half the time. This chapter was stupidly easy.  
> Again, thankful as hell for Jam City's Harry Potter game, cuz I just learned what Dittany was! I'm still barely a Fifth year, but I'm learning a lot about how the curriculum is, what the magic looks like, and how to brew certain potions. I highly recommend it for everyone, but I'm not trying to advertise it. Just really grateful for some sort of structure to Hogwarts.  
> Anyway, enjoy this chapter, and stop blowing holes in my ship people! I'm barely starting, you dunno what I'm gonna do. I could make Ron jump from the astronomy tower, and you guys wouldn't see it coming, yo. I'm like Doctor Who up in this b****.  
> Like, comment, bookmark, or however you wanna say this was good, tell a friend!

December 19th was the start of Winter break, and Harry felt like hell again. It was horrible, dealing with the weakness and the schoolwork at the same time. He was suddenly glad for this unexpectedly expected break, and he kept going until he was falling asleep in Transfiguration when Neville helped him not get caught by Headmistress McGonagall. Snape escorted him to every class, everyone could smell it on him, his Heat was broadcast for all to know.

Neville had said it was nice,  _ “almost like almonds.” _

Hermione couldn't sit next to him without wanting to gag, so he took lunch with his Guardian, which for him, was almost better than anything else. He took the opportunity to nap then while he could, even though Snape made him eat.

Over the last month, studying had become tantamount above sleeping, and Harry had asked to stay in the Potion Master's office late into the night. Snape had agreed, and Harry found himself wrapped in a wool blanket on a couch the next morning. He'd remembered being bent over parchment at the desk, and assumed Snape had come in late to check on him. His suspicions were proven correct when the same man returned half an hour later with a hot mug of coffee. He'd spent every night since then in the office, and woke up almost every morning on the couch.

This, of course, was put on hold when his scent started to change.

Snape was irritable, but not completely unmanageable, he was sharp and biting but there was no venom. It seemed like he was too tired to do anything more than go through the motions, and Harry found himself worried about their arrangement for the first time.

Obviously, Snape wouldn't let him even bring it up, but it was starting to become clear that the man was overworked.

Ginny seemed to finally understand how different he was, as she'd made comment that he smelled too sweet, like a girl. And while it was insulting, it still eased the issue away.

Ron said nothing to him as he waited on the platform with Neville, Luna, and Hermione, but Ginny waved at him in a sort of apologetic way that told him things would resolve soon. And when the train arrived, the sun was setting and Snape was there to escort him back to the castle. The sky rumbled above them and the rain started sometime later, it was apparently still too warm to snow.

He said nothing as Snape lead him through the halls, depositing him beside the yellow witch before setting ward spells.

“You know how to contact me, Potter.” Snape said formally, far too soon.

“Wait.”

Snape's footsteps were quiet, but he made an audible stop.

“If this is too much for you-”

“Stop that. I'm not as weak as your House has rumored, your time is needed elsewhere.” The dark man snapped, and then he turned down another corridor.

Harry was left in the hallway alone, and his eyes began to water. Inhaling sharply, he said the password and stepped inside to begin his Heat.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three days later, Harry felt the exhaustion seep into his bones, and there was no end in sight. The first day, he slept. He slept through it all, the cramps, the slick, the intense smell of his rooms. A house-elf had left water, pumpkin juice, and finger sandwiches sometime during the day, but he couldn't be bothered to get up for anything.

The second day, he saw the elf leave the food and drink, and he drank all he could. He'd never been more thirsty in his life. He even refilled the water jug with the faucet in the bathroom, just so he could keep drinking what his body had lost.

And then, he got hard. Unbearably hard, and no amount of masturbation would make it go down. It was more frustrating than all the fucked up fantasies his feverish mind kept bringing to the forefront of his skull. To be played out on the inside like old drive-in movies, where instead only he was the audience.

And Snape was featured a lot.

In the back of his mind, he knew the man was off-limits. Completely unattainable. Beyond the scope of understanding and reason. But his mind seemed to be obsessed already. The man's voice was vivid, as if Harry'd memorized it, and it was unsettling.

He tried to focus on other Alphas, like that Terry Boot from Ravenclaw. But the boy's nose was small, and the eyes were too blue. And Harry really didn't like the twit in the first place, always talking about wandwoods and proper finishing techniques. And the way Boot would watch him from afar made his skin crawl.

So he would stop thinking about Terry Boot, and he would lie there, thinking about how he would  _ want _ his Alpha to treat him.

On the third day, he decided he didn't care about looks. He really just wanted  _ someone _ to take away this pain and help him every time this happened. And it showed.

His bed had never been used as much as it had been in the last seventy-four hours, his sheets were wet in places, the comforter was thrown to the floor, as were his clothes and all the books once on his nightstand. Everything smelled like Omega and sex and it drove his own desperation up the walls. He'd managed to fit eating and water into his day, but found it difficult to walk when his body was so weak.

And now, he was despairing. He'd done everything to assuage the low broil of his gut, and he was gifted nothing in return. He was ready to call Snape in to help, but was holding off. He didn't want to stress the man, and Merlin only knew what he had been up to in the last few days. He could be exhausted, and snarky. And Harry swore he was already crying at the thought of being berated.

So he hung between his decisions, and payed for it in spades.

The next morning he awoke to a very swollen, very purple prick and the texture of his sheets felt like sandpaper. His skin felt like it was too tight, and he was too hot. Reaching for his wand was an ordeal that he never thought he would have to deal with, but producing a Patronus was even worse.

When his stag dipped its massive head and disappeared, he let his exhaustion pull him under. And he awoke as Snape slammed his door open.

“What're you doin’?” He grumbled, still tightly gripped by sleep. “Don't break stuff.”

Snape's derisive snort made him smile. “You said you were in trouble.”

“I am!” He protested, groaning as he tried to push himself up. “'M tired and weak and can't  _ fix _ this! Need help.”

“Potter, getting a mate fixes your current condition. As of this very minute, there's no point in looking for one so you just have to ride it out.”

“Gotta be  _ something _ I can do.” He groaned as his movements made his groin protest severely. “Like a-a potion or something. Or you can just hit me over the head with my lamp.”

_ Or you could touch me. _ Harry's inner Omega said, and he groaned at the images it brought up.

“I'm sorry, but there's nothing  _ to _ be done. You're just going to have to stick with traditional methods, Harry.”

He almost screamed that he'd  _ been _ doing that, and he was rewarded with nothing. Instead, he sighed. “That's unfortunate.” He said quietly.

Snape's heaved exhale was audible, and Harry wondered if the man was affected by his scent more than he let on. That sparked some sort of happy feeling in him that he really hoped meant nothing.

“It should end soon, Potter, just keep hydrating and make sure you eat.” Snape said, and the chambers were suddenly empty except for him. He whimpered at the fading Alpha scent, and rolled over to stare at his ceiling.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Severus returned to the castle late on December 24th.

The Dark Lord mobilized on Little Whinging at sunset, and Severus was one of the few to accompany the raid. The loss of Potter at Privet Drive made Voldemort mad, and he had to explain that Dumbledore must've moved the boy on another night without letting the sorceror into his mind. It had been a long, arduous task, since the Dursleys had been moved by the Order and there was no one else to ask. He had to plant the idea that he might not be as valuable since Dumbledore's death, that no one else trusted him as much as the late Headmaster.

The torture was bearable in comparison, all he had to do was shut off the part of him that wanted to scream, and the Dark Lord would move onto lesser prey. He always felt like a despicable human being afterwards, and once upon a time, he would've gone to the Headmaster's office for solace. Now, he was alone in his own chambers, tired, weak, and shaking.

He couldn't even hold his wand straight.

Potter's scent enveloped the castle in a way that made the castle feel more like  _ home _ and Severus relished in it. He'd become so used to it that he was now physically reinvigorated by it, and he felt safer. It was a dangerous thought, that Potter represented  _ safety _ to him, if the Dark Lord only knew.

But that was what made this work worth it.  _ Right? _

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and instead focused on finding enough peace to sleep.

Potter's eyes seemed to stare back at him from behind his eyelids. Or was it Lily? Was it some remembrance of his lost friend, at a time when everything in the world was easier?

Whatever it was, it disturbed him to the core.

He was going to die in this war, maybe not today or tomorrow, but he knew his days were numbered. And with Voldemort keeping Nagini so close, as Dumbledore had predicted, it was impossible for him not to become anxious. The war was coming to an impossible head, and he hoped Albus had planned enough to have everyone ready.

Suddenly, he missed Potter's presence fiercely. The boy would know what to say, how to handle this vibrating feeling. How to come down from the adrenaline high and sleep.

It was definitely something he needed at that very moment.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry was half-dead on Christmas. Not in any literal sense, just worn and tired and, blissfully,  _ limp. _

His recuperation was swift, but it left him in a near-comatose state for hours, and he worried someone would come looking for him.

He refused clothing since he'd come down, as the heat from the fire was just below unbearable, and the stone had no bearing on the cotton of his sheets. When he finally got up, he spotted the little Christmas tree in the kitchen of his chambers and the gifts piled up around it's base. He unwrapped gifts as he ate; socks from Dobby, one bright blue with white stars and the other solid yellow; a deep red Weasley jumper made of softer wool from Molly Weasley; another photo from Hagrid, but of him and Harry on the platform at the end of first year; another book on Quidditch from Hermione; and a small parcel from Snape that he didn't want to open yet. He left the little silver and purple gift under the tree, and almost forgot about it, except for every moment he passed by it.

He was afraid of what it might be. Snape had never gifted him anything, and Harry was worried that the gift  _ he'd  _ given was mediocre in comparison.

Finally, at midnight, he opened the little box. Inside was a small vial, with  _ memories _ inside, swirling silvery little threads of light. As he looked, a memory floated to the surface and opened, shining colors everywhere. And then the memory focused in, and his mum was smiling at him.

She couldn't have been older than ten, not with the way her cheeks were so plump with child fat. She was saying something, but the memory was encased, and he couldn't hear her. Under the vial was a note:

_ I open at the close. _

He turned the note over, but there was nothing else written on the little piece of parchment. His mother smiled at him again, and then the memory closed, seeping back into the other threads.

He wondered about the note. Maybe he wasn't allowed to open the vial yet? He didn't own a pensieve, so that was guaranteed, but what was the meaning of this riddle Snape had gifted him?

Snape always said he was too dense, so why give him something so intellectually stimulating?

Other memories made their appearance too, he sat for the rest of the night watching through blue-tinted glass. There was his mother, a lot, throughout her teenage years. He smiled when she showed up, even if she was yelling or crying. But there was also Dumbledore, and his father, and even Sirius and Remus showed up in this bundle of memories. It made him curious. What was Snape showing him? What was the purpose of this gift? As he fell asleep, there was an image of a silvery doe, but he wasn't sure he'd imagined it or not.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry awoke to his ward spells going off, Snape would be alerted also, so he immediately went to dress somewhat presentably. He was already in trousers when he heard Snape arguing loudly with whomever decided to cross him. He pulled on a tee as he walked back into the common room, went back for the vial, pocketed it, and then opened the portrait.

“-I don't  _ care _ what authority you have, Professor. Harry's my friend, regardless of what condition he is in.” Hermione was shouting, her hair frizzed and loosely tied up in a bun. She looked like she'd been traveling all night and then some, her clothes were Muggle, but she wore the remains of her burnt robes on her shoulders.

“You misunderstand, Granger, Potter's condition is as embarrassing as it is life-threatening. Please, come to my office, I will have tea and biscuits brought up-” Snape was saying, just as loudly.

“Hullo,” He supplied, looking between them. “Severus, let her through.”

Snape stepped back, his head bowed. He was favoring one side, as if he'd been hurt or landed on something. Harry's worry climbed dramatically.

“Thank you,” Hermione said forcefully, pushing past them both. “Can I talk to you? Alone?” She asked him.

His gaze never left the tall shadow in his corridor.

“Give me a moment, would you?” He said and closed the portrait. “You too.” He said to the yellow witch in the painting. She huffed but covered her ears with a frown.

“Sev-”

“You have a visitor, Potter.”

“That's not-”

“You should go inside.”

“Severus, don't do this right now!” Harry shouted, he spread his fingers out and then clenched his fists. “I'm more concerned with the fact that you are injured,” he continued softer. “And don't try to pass me off, because I can plainly  _ see _ you are and you  _ will not _ get away so easily. Not like First Year.”

He watched Snape deflate, and he imagined the man was extremely thin under the thick robes.

“It has been a particularly trying couple of days, Potter.” Snape said gently, sneering at him. “You're relatives have been found missing. I have been playing  _ damage control _ for the last thirty hours.” He said meaningfully, and Harry understood immediately that ‘damage control’ was being tortured mercilessly by Voldemort.

Snape must've been attacked on the side he was favoring.

“Let me,”

“No, NO, Potter.” Snape took a step back, but he stumbled a bit in his haste. “Just-” But Harry was quick, and Snape's pain made him slow to react, so he slipped close enough to smell the man's breath. He didn't dare unbutton the overcoat, but he pushed it aside and carefully touched the huge bruises forming on the pale skin. He felt a growl push it's way up his throat, but he swallowed it as he replaced Snape's clothing. No need to confuse the man when Harry himself couldn't rightly make decisions like that.

“I would take a hot bath for that.” He said, keeping his tone flat just in case that growl wasn't fully contained.

Snape just stared hard at him, but it wasn't unpleasant to be under  _ that  _ kind of attention.

“Just be careful on the way down.” He sighed and turned to re-enter his chambers.

“I will.” Snape's voice sent shivers down his spine, but he turned back to look for him and the Potions Master was gone.

If only Snape could look at him like  _ that _ more often.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry was pissed off when the Weasley's arrived the next day at noon.

Hermione's visit had been a real fright. She had been attacked on the way home, her mother barely survived the confrontation by letting Hermione be the badass witch everyone knew she was. Her father was not as lucky. But Hermione made it to the Burrow, and Ron had yelled her into leaving for Grimmauld. Where her mother stayed, on orders from McGonagall, and Hermione made the long trip to Hogwarts on the Knight Bus. Now, however, Harry had insisted that she get rest and food, and she was currently in his chambers.

He wasn't mad at Molly, who greeted him like always, like he was a part of the family. He wasn't mad at Arthur, or the twins, or even Ginny. He gave them all hugs and tight grins. They all knew it was coming, he could tell by the way Molly patted his cheek gently and Arthur's strained smile. Ron lagged behind because of the intense rage he must've shown the moment he saw his best friend.

“Harry, mate, good holiday?” The tall, gangly teen asked as he approached. Molly flinched, and Ginny rubbed her eyebrows in irritation.

“Yeah, for the most part.” Harry said sharply. “Guess who's in my rooms right now?”

“M'I dunno, mate. Snape?” Ron shrugged, with a  _ stupid _ little smirk that made Harry want to hit him.

“I think you do know, Ron.” Harry closed his eyes, and  _ breathed. _ “I think you know because you're not stupid enough to play that role.”

Ron shrugged again, “What's it matter to you? 'Mione was always able to take care of herself.”

“What is your problem with us?” Harry shouted. “We don't get to  _ choose _ who ends up being an Omega! She's fucking scared, man.”

“My problem, is that you freaks seem to think you're all better than the rest of us! Saint Potter, and Know-It-All Granger. The only two unattainable wizards in all of Britain.” Ron snapped, his face twisted with anger and the deep frown his mother had directed to all of them at one point. Harry felt affronted.  _ Freaks. _

“Ron.” Ginny said sharply. “Back the fuck off them!”

“No, you can.” Ron sniffed. “I'm not part of  _ this _ anyway. I'm going to be in the Tower, if you need me. Fuck this, mate.”

Ron was gone before Harry could come out of his shock.

He growled loudly, and ran his hands through his hair. Ron was putting himself in a deep hole, if he wasn't careful, nobody would be able to help dig him out. He looked up at the other Weasleys, all of them watching him for some sort of direction, something to draw them out of this horrible mess.

“You don't have to stay.” He said.

“Nonsense, Harry.” Ginny stepped up next to him.

“He's been a tosser all holiday.” Fred agreed, grinning at George.

Molly joined Ginny at his side, rubbing his back like he'd seen her do for Hermione on bad nights.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Severus set his glass of brandy on the coffee table, and reclined against the chair. The fire roared in front of him like a blazing star, he could feel it's heat in his cheeks and through his shoes. His eyes slipped closed for  _ a moment _ and then there was a timid knock on his door.

Only two people came to visit him here. And only one refused to abide by the practical rule of knocking.

“Come in!” He shouted, groaning as the pain of breathing wracked his right side. The door opened slowly, and Potter's familiar gaite preceded his appearance.

Severus forced himself to sit straighter, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Potter.” He greeted, a little more than breathlessly.

“Severus,” the boy returned and sat in the chair adjacent him. “Hermione was attacked outside her parents’ place.”

“I had no idea.” Severus admitted, reaching for his glass again. Potter was staring at him, harshly. “I really didn't.” He repeated, staring the boy in the eye. Potter's whole countenance changed in the blink of an eye. He even leaned back and closed those piercing green eyes. Severus felt the air loosen around them.

“Shit's so fucked up right now.” Potter said. “Ron thinks we're freaks.”

“Who? Me?” Severus wondered darkly, but Potter shook his head. “You?”

“And 'Mione. And Luna, Neville, Malfoy, and you, I guess.” Potter waved a hand in front of him, it was a truly lazy gesture, but Severus found he minded it less. “Thinks it's a conspiracy to leave him out, I think. Real trivial and all, I know. But he called us freaks….”

Severus shrugged, “I've been a freak all my life, Potter, it doesn't bother me as it once did. We are different, that's the bottom line.”

The boy said nothing, just stared at the fire. Light bounced in front of his eyes, a reflection of the fireplace in Harry's glasses, but it was mesmerizing nonetheless. Potter sighed suddenly, and the animation was back.

“I've been called a freak because I couldn't control my magic, and was called a freak every year after I first came here.” Potter admitted. Severus had seen this already, through all the Occlumency lessons. But their only rule was to not talk about what the other sees, that was how they survived in Grimmauld. Potter was extending himself first, giving Severus every opportunity to take advantage. “I was a freak in the Muggle world, and now I'm a freak in the Wizarding World. There's no escaping it, so why does it hurt so much?”

Severus bit the inside of his cheek. No one had ever asked that question of him, not since-

“Harry,” he said, his voice shook and he was in unfamiliar territory. He was afraid of fucking up as he always did when presented with emotion. And Potter was watching him swallow the bile threatening to spew forth. “Do you think Miss Granger is a freak?”

“No.”

“And what of Mister Longbottom and Miss Lovegood?”

“Luna's weird, but not a freak.” Potter said defensively, Severus had to hold up his own defensive hand to assuage the boy.

“Do you think I am a freak?” He asked carefully.

Potter's mouth tightened  _ severely. _ He knew the answer before he spoke.  _ “No.” _

Severus raised his eyebrows, nodding to the boy. “Then are you a freak?”

Potter blinked at him, swallowed and looked away. He was free to refill his glass without those eyes watching, but he suddenly found his appetite had diminished since Potter came in. Instead, he set his glass aside for a house elf to pick up in the morning and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his coat. It was warming quickly, perhaps he ought to reduce the fire.

“How's your side?” Potter asked, making him jump as the silence was broken.

He grunted, it ached, but the alcohol made him not care. But Potter looked genuinely concerned. “It hurts, but it's not as bad as it seems.” He admitted. “I have potions and poultices that can speed the healing process.”

“Can I help in any way? Hermione's asleep, and I don't want to disturb her.”

Severus hesitated. He let Minerva help him once, and she almost retched at the devastating condition he was in. It had been enough to ensure he never asked again, no matter how much she offered.

“I won't hurt you, Severus.” Harry said in defense of himself. And all he could do was wonder at the nature of the boy. Harry was afraid Severus would be afraid of being hurt, it was almost-  _ suspicious. _

“You shouldn't.” He said quietly, but he raised his right hand to unbutton his coat further. “It is not pretty.”

Potter sighed, but his tired smile was gentle. “I'm sure I've seen worse.”

Nodding, he finished the buttons as quickly as his shaking fingers would allow. The pain lanced through him every time they slipped, so it was slow going. “The bruise cream is on the credenza, and the others are in the potions cabinet in the kitchen.” He said, and Potter got up. “You're looking for a blue potion in a clear vial, and the large green bottle on the top shelf.”

“Painkiller and uncrushed Dittany?” He heard from the kitchen. “Why uncrushed?”

“I can eat it that way,” he said, pulling at his sleeves. The black overcoat was heavy, his shoulder hurt less and his chest was less constricted, he could finally  _ breathe. _ “The chemicals,” he grunted as he threw the black cloth across the room. “In Essence of Dittany are poisonous, hence not wanting to eat it.”

He leaned back, the cooler air of the dungeons was nice, but it froze the places soaked with blood or sweat. His undershirt clung to him awkwardly.

“Wouldn't a bezoar counter the effects?” Potter called back before appearing again.

“Yes, but you would want to eat the bezoar first. Highly impractical. In what circumstances would you manage to eat a bezoar, get hurt, and then eat Essence of Dittany?”

Potter's shrug didn't irritate him anymore, it just meant the boy was honest in his naivety. “Maybe when Voldemort poisons my food and then drives a sword through my gut?”

Severus tipped his head, he could concede to that. And the Dark Lord had a habit of the dramatics.

“Fair point, twenty points to Gryffindor.” He said softly.

Potter laughed, it was short and loud but it made him feel nice to be the source of Potter's laughter. He found himself smirking back. “I'm not sure if you meant it, but thanks anyway.” Potter chuckled as he handed the blue potion to Severus. “Tell me how to do this.”

He downed the painkiller with a grimace at the taste, and sat up again. “The Dittany, Harry, open it.” He said gently, and allowed Potter to discern for himself how much should be used.

“It's not powder.” Potter said with a frown and reached in for the mangled roots. “But this should do.”

Severus held out his hand, and Potter dropped about half a gram of the root into his palm. He raised an eyebrow but nodded, the boy was going to do just fine on his N.E.W.T.s.

“You're going to put the bruise cream on,” He said, hoping that this would not send Potter away. At this point, he would have to have help, and Pomfrey was  _ not _ the choice he would like to have. Potter seemed unfettered, determined even, by the prospect. “I will lift my arm, so do not worry about excess, the more you put on the better it feels.”

Potter nodded, and uncorked the thick-glass vial.

“I am not ticklish, I am not overly sensitive, do not miss any of it.”

“I understand, Sev.” Potter nodded again, he even smiled a little. “I won't back down, and I'll be thorough. Don't worry.”

He snorted, but the boy was right. Potter  _ never _ missed a challenge, and Severus was suddenly afraid of being conquered. Not because that meant he'd lost, he had no idea what Potter would do  _ afterwards. _

Potter pulled at his undershirt, and his hands immediately went to his throat. These buttons were much easier, the cloth was soft enough to let them slip out without much fight. He let the shirt fall, and he tossed it over the arm of his chair before standing. He felt Potter's eyes on him the whole time, but he was in too vulnerable a position to make snide comments.

Potter seemed taller than before, the tips of his glasses barely levelled with Severus’ shoulder, so he had to  _ look _ at Potter the whole time. He slowly raised his arm, and let it rest behind his head. This stretched out the side muscles and caused sharp, cramp-like pain. He held his breath.

And exhaled in surprise at the cold of the ointment as Potter's hands touched him.

“Sorry.” The boy muttered, and Severus clenched his jaw against his own temperament. Potter worked quickly, but lingered in some places that quite frankly freaked him out. He jumped when the twit deliberately dragged a nail softly over a well-known scar and growled, that seemed to straighten the boy out. Potter never lingered longer than a few, breathtaking, seconds and the pain was finally reduced. He could feel the pressure of Potter's hands when he was able to breath better, with every inhale.

He could feel Potter's breath against his skin, and it was quickly raising goosebumps. His body shuddered, and the boy paused.

“It's nice.” He stated after clearing his throat.

“I bet, since you made it yourself.” Potter's breathy laugh made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Small hands resumed at his abdomen, layering the mixture thickly over the bruised flesh. Potter's hands hesitated at the waistband of his trousers, and he pulled away, reaching for his shirt.

“Thank you. You should wash up in the kitchen.” He said without turning.

The boy said nothing as he left the room, and Severus let out a heavy breath. His hands shook from the anxiety, he had to get in control,  _ fast. _ The sound of the faucets running spurred him into action, and he slipped his arms through the shirt as quickly as possible. The fabric stuck to his side as it made contact with the bruise cream.

He straightened his back as the faucets were shut off.

“Er, Hermione might be awake by now.” Potter called from the other room.

“Yes, Pomfrey is available to help you if she needs medical aid.” Severus nodded. “I'll be unable to do much for the next week, but don't hesitate to call me for anything.” Potter muttered his assent and thundered out of Severus’ chambers.

He let the boy go, he didn't want the boy to think he would always run after him. Potter would have to continue without him at  _ some _ point, that independence was important.

He wasn't sure how to feel, about any of it.

He decided to put it aside, to figure it out another day, and retired to his bed. The silver lily pendant Potter had given him for Christmas rested heavily against his clavicle, as if it were wilting.


	6. January

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two things didn't feel right as he climbed the steps of the Grand Entrance; someone was watching him, and there was shouting coming from within the heavy wooden doors before him.

Harry was glad he'd missed the Christmas dinner with the staff, only because the New Year's dinner party -yes, dinner  _ party- _ had become one of the worst debalacles he'd ever attended. He drank far too much with Hermione, who thought it was a rather grand idea, and he could swear he would have to apologize to several professors for their behaviour. It was despicable, but he couldn't do anything about it anymore, and Hermione had been determined to drink him under the table. He couldn't very well let her do it alone.

So waking up on the new year with dry mouth and a raging headache was what he'd signed up for.

Hermione curled in around him in the bed, her hair somehow finding its way into his nose and mouth. They'd shared a bed once before, when they were eleven, and Hermione had been homesick. But Harry was the big spoon then even though he was barely taller than her, now he'd become shorter and thinner. He worried she would notice the effect his relatives’ abuse had done, but she snored beside him loudly, and he couldn't be bothered to worry anymore. She was dead-asleep.

He dislodged her leg, that laid over one of his own, and then slipped out of her arms quietly. She mumbled something, rolled onto her belly, cradled her head in her arms and then he heard her snore again. He wondered how the other girls managed with her being so loud in the dorms. Maybe she set silencing charms, he'd never heard anyone complain about her snoring.

Yawning, he meandered to the kitchenette and poured himself a glass of water.

Students would be returning in a few days. Harry would have to face Ron again, at least in classes. He didn't like the idea. He wanted things to go back to normal, for Ron to get over his fat ego. He wanted his best friends by his side in the coming war.

A pop came from the living room, making him jump and set his glass down. The house elf came running into the kitchenette, balancing platters of breakfast foods in each hand. He scrambled to help the poor thing, placing everything on the counters, and then the elf left. He would have to get used to that.

A card was left beside the plate of hotcakes, and he recognized the elegant, formal handwriting of Severus Snape. It read:

_ Harry, _

_ Last night must've been a great celebration for you and Miss Granger, consider this a late New Year's gift. I recommend Avocado for the headache. _

_ It is nice to stop and smell the roses once in a while, Potter, but let this not become a regular thing. _

_ Severus Snape _

Harry looked up to see the hotcakes sat next to a green fruit with thick, black skin. He smiled, the thought of the Professor worried about him after his first party made him feel warm. Someone  _ cared _ about him.

Hermione's voice made him hide the card, in the jeans he was still wearing. “Was that an elf?” She shouted.

“Yeah, but I didn't call. I usually eat in the kitchens.” He yelled back. “They must've known we were hungover. Maybe the whole castle is.”

“I'm starved!” She suddenly appeared in the kitchen, turned green and puked on the tile. “Nevermind.” She groaned.

He cast a Cleaning Charm over the mess as she retreated for the loo, and he shook his head. “When you're done, I have something for the headache.” He called after her.

“Good God, I hope it's not one of those awful potions.” He heard her swear.

“Better, I guess. Called an avocado? Guess it helps after a hangover.”

He heard her retch again, and cringed. He took a spoon and dug into one of the halves set out on the plate. The green flesh separated cleanly from the black skin, it tasted like sweet grass and salt.

“Doesn't taste that bad either.” He said aloud, just in case she was still listening. When he heard nothing, he began to worry. “Hermione?” He called. Still nothing.

He left the kitchen and pushed open the lavatory door to find her snoring atop the toilet seat. He made a mental note to stay away from Butterbeer and Firewhiskey for a while.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

On January 3rd, the school was once again loud and crowded. Harry had difficulty navigating to the Quidditch Pitch for some flying, it had been the only day he'd managed to leave his chambers long enough, since his Heat and Hermione's stay had taken a lot of his free time. But now his friend was occupied with her other friends, he was free for a time. He decided now was the best time to get in some stress-relief.

He stayed outside until the sun began to tip towards the horizon and the biting winter wind began to pick up. He felt exhilarated afterwards, like he'd taken his own specific  _ Felix Felicis _ and he floated on that high cloud until he entered the school. He probably looked a right mess, but he couldn't care less.

Severus had been absent for a few, very long days, so Harry had been on his own high-alert during that time.

Two things didn't  _ feel _ right as he climbed the steps of the Grand Entrance; someone was watching him, and there was shouting coming from within the heavy wooden doors before him.

He stopped with his hand on the door, paralyzed by his own Omega-panic, and turned to look over his shoulder. The grounds were empty, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The shouting spurred him to move inside, if only to figure out what was going on. And to put the watched feeling behind him. As the doors closed him off from attack, he heard Ginny, Ron, and Hermione's voices ringing off the walls, and students blocked his progress into the hall.

He started pushing through the crowds, even as the voices reached a violent crescendo, and managed to get through in time to see Ron draw his wand, and for Ginny to draw her own and point it at her brother. The hall went silent, and Harry couldn't believe this was happening.

“If you want to do something stupid, I'll stop you.” Ginny warned her brother, red-faced but her wand was steady.

Harry stepped into the berth between his friends and their audience. “Guys, this is not worth lives and limbs. We can fix this without duelling.” He said, trying to edge between Ginny and Ron. He kept his wand in his hand, just in case he needed to cast Shield Charms. Ginny hesitated, her wand arm dropping a bit, but still pointed it at her brother. Harry felt relief wash over him and he turned to face Ron, who's wand arm was already casting at him. He didn't have enough time to react, and half a Shield Charm absorbed part of the spell before it hit him.

Another flash of light flew over his head, and another erupted from somewhere off to his side. The hall filled with shouts and outright screams, and Harry was disoriented.

When the ringing of his ears ceased, so did the spells and screams. Paper, stone, and wood littered the immediate area. He looked back to see Hermione, okay but dirty, knelt over an unlucky bystander.

“TWENTY POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR FROM EACH OF YOU!” McGonagall was shouting, helping Ginny up further down the hall. “Mister Weasley and Miss Weasley, I will be seeing you both in my office immediately!”

Professors Sprout and Sinistra were helping other students who had been caught in the crossfire, and Harry watched them for a long moment before getting up.

“Harry?” He heard someone ask, and he tried to pushed himself up so he could prove he was fine. That whatever had happened didn't affect him. He didn't  _ feel _ different, except for the tingle in his wand arm.

The room suddenly spun on its axis, and he had to shut his eyes to quell the nausea threatening to overcome him. “Harry?” He heard again from very far away. Someone touched him and he groaned his displeasure.

“I'm gonna puke.” He whispered, clenching his eyes shut. “I gotta- I gotta go.”

“You are going nowhere until I've had a chance to take a look at you, Potter.”

_ Severus! _

A cold hand touched his forehead, it felt like ice. He started to sweat, it soaked his shirt collar in minutes. Professor Snape was swift, he barely touched Harry at all, and when he did, Harry could hear the man hiss apologies at him, that it was his job to fix this, and that Harry would be okay.

“Do you know what spell hit you?” Severus was asking him, he was having trouble remembering what colors and shapes looked like.

“Purple.” He breathed. “Leg-lock curse, or something else. Very nauseating.”

“Do you know what hit Draco?”

Harry shook his head instead of verbalizing. He felt like he would spew at any moment. Severus tilted his head upwards and a cold vial was pressed against his lips.

“Drink it, Potter. You were hit by a minor prank spell, nothing too damaging, but I'd like to make sure you didn't hit your head. You have too little brain cells to lose in a duel.”

He wanted to laugh, and say that he had to have had  _ some _ to figure out to deflect the spell as well as he did, but the potion was bitter and made him gag and choke. The nausea passed quickly, leaving him a quivering mess on the floor. He raised his arm to wipe his mouth, only to notice his wand had  _ broken. _

It was split down the middle, revealing the burnt Phoenix feather core, he despaired.

“This must've been why you got hit,” Severus said gently. “The magic was too powerful and couldn't manifest in this wand. So you took the spell, and the wand burst from stress.”

“Where am I going to get a new  _ wand, _ Severus?” He whispered, terrified. “I can't go to Diagon Alley.”

“I know someone who can help you, Potter. But we have to get you to the hospital wing first.”

He pulled away, and stood on his own. That potion really did the job, he felt better than he did when he came into the castle. “I'm  _ fine! _ It's my  _ wand _ that's not.”

“I will call the wandmaker, Potter. Wait for me in your chambers and take Granger with you, I have others to tend to and I need you in a safe place with an able witch.” Severus commanded, and a little of the Alpha voice seeped into his tone. It made Harry jittery, and he  _ wanted  _ to disobey for a split second before he let it go, and did as he was told.

Hermione snarled at him as he approached her, but she immediately backed down when she saw him, and let him drag her to his chambers. Severus took Malfoy in the next seconds, levitating him to the infirmary, and that was the last Harry had seen of the Potions Master that night.

The next morning dawned, and he hadn't slept at all. It wasn't the loss of his wand, or the battle itself that shook him. He couldn't put his finger on it yet, but he was close to figuring out why he wasn't able to sleep. The sun rose and Hermione rose, and the castle bustled with life, but he felt disquiet inside him.

Then the sun peaked at noon, and the clouds rolled in, slowly at first, then all at once. And right about dinnertime, it snowed for the first time that season. When the flakes began to stick to the ground, he couldn't  _ sit _ anymore.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Mister Khanna, you took your time, I see.” Severus snapped as he met the dark-skinned wizard at the main entrance. The wandmaker grinned at him, as if this had been the  _ highlight _ of his day.

“It's been a long time since I was here last, Professor. Forgive me, when I heard that this project was for  _ Harry Potter, _ I brought out my best materials and it took some time.” Rowan Khanna, a Slytherin Severus had guided more than seven years prior, said in his languid way. But those chocolate eyes were shrewd, and Severus was well accustomed to the young man's charms.

“You know what I'll do to you if you harm him.” He warned darkly, and Khanna's confidence faltered somewhat.

“Yes, sir, I do. My family and I have never fallen to the dark side, I assure you.” The darker wizard said, and Severus nodded and turned to go inside. “Sir, what is he like?”

Severus didn't have to think to share his opinion. “He is not what you think he is.”

And he led the wandmaker into the school.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry jumped from the couch when the portrait opened, and Severus walked through.

His relief flooded him, and he wanted to wrap himself in Severus’ robes, to hide. To envelope his senses with Snape's scent.

Then another wizard stepped through the door, and it all shut down, went away so he could think past his base needs. Severus showed no signs of leaving, so he let himself relax a bit.

“Is he the one?” The other wizard asked Severus, who nodded once. “Harry Potter, it is wonderful to meet you. Even better to be at your service tonight. I am Rowan Khanna, I own a wand shop in France and experiment with diverse stylistic designs and wand cores. May I ask what your previous wand was made of?”

Rowan didn't reach out to him to shake his hand, or ask to see his scar, and Severus was intensely calm in the corner. Harry liked Rowan a bit. “Holly and Phoenix tail feather.” He offered, and Severus stepped out of the shadows.

“The phoenix who gave the feather belonged to the late Headmaster.” The Professor supplied, not taking his eyes off Harry. “Fawkes gave up another feather that resides within a yew wand owned by the Dark Lord.”

“Fascinating! I've heard of brother-wands, but not from a Phoenix! That's almost unheard of, how did it come to perish?”

Harry cleared his throat. “I deflected a spell improperly, and it was cleaved in two.” He pulled the remains of his wand out of his back pocket and passed it to Khanna. The man took it gingerly, sparks shot out of the end but it was weak and it stopped almost as soon as it started.

“The core has been destroyed,” Khanna observed aloud. “But I can replicate it's magical signature still. You are lucky it didn't disintegrate entirely, usually a wand will refuse to remain intact when the core is so damaged. But it seems to be fighting to live.”

Harry blinked, he'd never heard of a wandmaker who could replicate a magical signature. Not that he'd been all that interested in the subject.

“Mister Khanna rebuilt many wands after the first war,” Severus said as if he were reading Harry's mind. “He is quite good at what he does.”

“That's high praise coming from you, sir.” Khanna chuckled. “Harry, how tall are you?”

“He's barely 5’ 5”.” Severus said with a snort.

Khanna shrugged. “I was shorter than you at your age. Don't let him make you feel bad just because he's a giant.” Khanna smirked at Harry while Snape huffed. “Let's sit, before he takes off my head.”

“I'm leaving anyway, Khanna.” Severus said, shaking his head. “Don't do anything you know I'll kill you for.”

“Wait,” Harry called after him. But Severus didn't stop this time, and he stared at where the man had been moments ago.

“Don't worry, he gets shy around me. He'll be back before we're done.” Rowan said with a reassuring smile. “Are you ready for the hard part?”

Harry nodded and sat beside the darker wizard.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry had touched every piece of wood Rowan put out, tasted every plant, sniffed several different resins, and finally Rowan was pulling out the cores.

Some things were indiscernible, like the red web of flesh-like rope, but there were things he could recognize such as unicorn hair and these dark wood strips that crackled whenever Harry spoke.

Rowan listed the names as he touched them. Snallygaster heartstring did not react to him at all; milkweed made sparkles in his hand; American yarrow sat silent; the horn of a Basilisk made sharp pulsing course through his arm; the unicorn hair wouldn't let him touch it.

But the dark wood strips, that Rowan had called American Snakewood, felt comfortable in his hand and it warmed to his touch immediately. It felt more  _ right _ than his old wand ever had.

“American Snakewood core, and birch.” Rowan reported as he wrote. “Eleven and three-quarter inches, flexible.”

“Is that good?” Harry asked.

Rowan looked at him over black rimmed glasses. “Birch is a strong winter wood, it is loyal to it's wizard, making it flexible will be a challenge. But you chose the Russian sage resin, and it'll soften the birch just right. The American Snakewood comes from a tree that can only be found on the grounds of Ilvermorny, so it does not surprise me that British witches and wizards would feel uncomfortable around it.

“But you saw it and didn't flinch away at all. In fact, you  _ chose _ it as your core. Only powerful and smart wizards would choose this core. But I can tell that you have no idea why you want it, or why it calls to you. You don't know what it is, and yet you still feel comfortable with it. That is not coincidence, Harry. All of this makes a very powerful and loyal wand, but it will be versatile enough to adapt as you age. It will grow with you.” Khanna said all while looking at his notes. “And this wand will not have the inclination to act on it's own. It will manifest your thoughts in a more organized fashion, and nonverbal spells will become easier, but it will not make rash decisions. Like spitting fire at your friends.”

“Does that mean I'll be more vulnerable?”

“Not at all. In fact, I would say this wand will be more protective.” Khanna shook his head and then smiled. “It is a wonderful wand you have chosen. I will have a lot of fun making this one.”

“Did you ever make a wand for my parents?” Harry asked, he was intrigued to see what they might have chosen.

“No, I was eleven when they died.” Khanna frowned. “But I did examine their wands as part of my Mastery. Your father had Holly with dragon-heartstring core, fourteen inches, with a standard wood resin. Very obedient and talented. He must have been good at charms and transfigurations. I could never get a record of previous spells used, but the wood had teeth marks at the end, so I would hazard to guess he chewed on it when he was nervous.”

“You can learn all of that by just looking at the wand?” Harry asked, astonished.

“Oh, yes. I can teach you if you wish. I've been looking to complete my training, by becoming the teacher, you know?” Khanna's smile was bright, Harry could tell he took pride in his work. “I can make you an apprentice as soon as you complete school.”

“What about my N.E.W.T.s? Isn't there a requirement I have to make?”

Khanna held up the broken wand and pointed to the deep gouge in the handle that Harry fidgeted with whenever he was nervous. It had been there since his first real duel in second year, when he fired the Tickling Charm at Malfoy. “This tells me you are exceptional at Defense.” Rowan said, then he pointed to the nick at the top, where Harry had recently tapped his cauldron too hard. “This says you've improved in Potions. And this,” Rowan pointed out the burnt feather. “Means you take great care of where your wand is at all times. Wands don't burn out like this without the user undergoing stress. You would make an excellent wandmaker.”

Rowan handed the broken wand to him, and he couldn't help but stare at it. It had been by his side for six and a half years, had done an admirable job of protecting him and teaching him. He was sad to see it go.

“I can have your new wand done by morning. Do you have any preferences as to the shape?” Rowan asked him.

“Make it look the same.” Harry muttered. “Not every detail, but close enough to fool others.”

“Of course.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Khanna had requested Harry's chambers to do the work, as there was no need to alert the populace of the school that a wandmaker was residing within Hogwarts. Harry found himself restless enough to leave. He wandered the halls until he wound up in the dungeons, and at that point he couldn't deny how badly he wanted to see Severus.

But the man didn't answer, neither his office nor his personal chambers.

He sat at the end of the hall by the dragon statue guarding the entrance to the Potions Master's quarters. Wondering what to do next.

Should he ignore all propriety and enter the man's chambers anyway? Or should he wander the halls in hopes of running into the man on night patrol? One had higher risks than the other. Severus could be mad at him, or he could be furious that Harry was wandering the halls without a wand or a guard.

He said the password and the dragon huffed a cloud of smoke at him before stepping aside to let him through.

He was quiet to enter, carefully placing his feet in spots that would make the least noise while moving as fast as he could. There was no one moving except him, Severus was either gone or asleep.

He decided against checking the bedroom, thinking that may be too personal, too  _ careless _ . His feet deviated towards the sitting room, where he knew Severus had enough literature to keep his mind occupied. Perhaps he could find something boring enough to put him to sleep, like his old Divination text. The irony was not lost on him.

He peered around the corner to the room, and saw a boot hanging off the arm of the chaise lounge.

He could hear Snape's even breathing then, and his skin prickled. He crossed the threshold, and Snape was lying on the chaise, books all around him, on tables at the arms, on the floor where his arm curled towards them, spread open across his chest. Snape was in a deep sleep, as if he'd crashed after an arduous day. Harry knew this was what exhaustion looked like, Severus was a light sleeper, prone to shouting if one was too loud. He quietly toed his way into the room, and slowly peeled the books off the Potions Master, he would sleep better if he had more room to breathe.

“Harry?”

Severus’ hand stopped his, and he looked up. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” Severus asked and then his black eyes cleared of sleep. “Who escorted you here?”

“Calm down, it's almost midnight, I came here by myself.” Harry mumbled, closing the dark blue cover in his hand and letting it rest on the floor with the other books. “Rowan is working, so I decided to find you.”

“You should have stayed there.” Severus muttered, his eyes closing again.

“Yeah, I didn't feel useful.” Harry smirked. “You know me, I can't pay attention long enough to save my own skin.”

Snape's huff was akin to laughter in this state. He let that soothe his frayed nerves.

“'M tired, Potter.”

“I can see that.”

“What I mean is,  _ go away.” _ Severus rumbled, Harry could feel it in the floorboards.

“What if I stayed really quiet?” He protested. “I could read.”

“And leave  _ more  _ fingerprints on my books?” Severus pulled on his wrist. He sounded mildly offended, but Harry didn't think it would escalate anytime soon. “Fine, but be careful.”

“Always, Severus.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Severus dozed for hours after, and it was nice to be comfortable while another person sat beside him. The sound of pages turning, noncommittal grunts and awes, and quiet breathing lulled him into a half-dream state.

Only when the sounds stopped did he reawaken and survey his surroundings.

Potter had fallen asleep reading, the gentle snoring could be attributed to the boy's head resting backwards against Severus’ left leg. Groaning, he stretched without jostling Potter and then reached out to nudge the boy.

“Mm?” Potter hummed.

“C'mere and get comfortable, idiot.” Severus meant to growl, but it sounded like a soft purr. He was too tired to care.

Potter grumbled something, started lilting to one side, and Severus pushed him again. Potter raised his hand to stop him, and he grabbed the boy's wrist. He tugged a little and Potter obeyed, keeping his eyes fixed closed as he crawled up onto the chaise.

“Get comfortable.” He repeated, and Potter huffed at him.

“Then move your leg.” The boy grumbled into his chest. Severus let his left leg fall off the couch and Potter squirmed until he fit easily on Severus’ chest.

Sleep came easier, and quicker, now that he was warm.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Severus awoke to stiff joints and the faux birds singing their morning song from within the only painting in his quarters. The sun would be rising soon. Classes were to begin late in the day, and he had a million things to do before handling at least a hundred students that day.

And Potter was a light weight atop him that he couldn't shake.

He wasn't mortified, he had let Draco sleep on him before, but his godson had been much younger. Still, Potter barely managed to weigh the same as an adolescent. That would hurt his chances in finding a mate, as Alphas would be searching for a healthy specimen to produce strong offspring.

On a personal note, it wasn't half bad. Of course, the boy was arrogant, disobedient, and reckless, unbecoming of any traditional Omega. But Harry had never been  _ traditional _ in any sense of the word.

The change of his heartbeat must've awoken the boy, but he didn't move. Severus could feel the wild panic radiating off Potter, and decided against saying anything. The boy would have to make the first move.

Potter inhaled deeply, and on his exhale, Severus could swear he heard his name.

“Smell good.” Was the next thing he heard.

“Astute observational skills.” He whispered.

“No fair.” Potter mumbled. “You're too good at waking up.” Potter dragged a hand up Severus’ side and chest to rub his own nose, the electricity of the touch stayed in his skin. “One day, I'll wake before you and you'll be the one confused. And I might be able to win a battle of wits against you.” Potter said, vindictively.

“Even on my worst day, I'll be able to squash what little is left of your wits.” He chuckled. “Now get up if you want coffee.”

“Fine, whatever.” And Potter crawled off of him to sit at the end of the chaise, rubbing his eyes under bent glasses. Severus got up and stretched, and in the time it took for him to regain his balance, Potter was stretched out on the lounge couch. Shaking his head, he pulled his own robes from his shoulders and covered the boy as best as he could.

Then he strode out of his chambers to collect the coffee from the elves before they sent it all to the Great Hall.

When he returned, Potter was sitting up, but still wrapped up in his cloak. He waited for Potter to situate himself into a position to hold coffee, then handed over the cup Dobby had made for Harry, specifically. The boy took it with a timid smile.

“Khanna should be finished with your wand by now.” He said conversationally. Potter nodded before downing half of his coffee in one go. “What is it?”

“Birch, with some sort of snakewood core from America.” Potter said breathlessly. “Russian sage resin, eleven and three-quarter inches.”

“Sounds exotic.” Severus murmured.

“It'll hopefully look the same, I want Voldemort thinking he has an advantage.” Then Potter looked up at him, and Severus didn't know what to do under such scrutiny. “What happened to Malfoy?”

“He suffered from a bump to the head, but ultimately, he'll be fine.” Severus shrugged. “Miss Granger is tending to him, an interesting development I would say.”

“I should go,” Potter said, nodding to himself.

“Allow me to escort you, wandless one.” Severus said with flourish, bowing his head in mock salute. He hid his smirk behind his coffee.

Potter frowned but assented, and Severus led the boy out of his personal chambers.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry was amazed, the wand was exactly the same on the outside, but when he held it, it felt unfamiliar and unorganized. Rowan had said it would take time to acclimate to the new wand, but this was almost insane. Trying to enlarge his cup of coffee had ended with ceramic and coffee all over his couch, and cleaning it up almost burned the upholstery. He was getting irritated with it, now that he realized how much of his life depended on magic. He wound up doing more  _ wandless _ magic than he should.

He was deadlocked, classes began that afternoon, and if his wand wasn't working, rumors would spread.

He tried to blast the wand into obeying, firing every spell he knew at various objects in his chambers, the wand laid dormant through it all. He used healing spells, and Shield Charms, and some prank spells he'd picked up from the twins. Nothing worked, or it misfired.

Finally, he ended up staring at it intently until Hermione entered his chambers. He had hoped the staredown would awaken the wand and  _ make it work. _

“Harry? Why do you smell like spices?” She asked as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “You were with Snape?”

He nodded. “I couldn't sleep, and Rowan was busy. Why do you smell like apples?” He questioned back, knowing full-well that she had spent her night in the infirmary with Malfoy.

“He's not that awful,” She said, almost wistfully. “A right twit, but not awful.”

“I know, 'Mione. Just be careful.” He sighed, he couldn't  _ stop _ her from pursuing Malfoy. He had to be there when she needed him. “How's Sinistra been as a Guardian?”

She folded easily to his change of subject. “Nice, I suppose. We've been playing Muggle chess during our meetings.”

“Is she any good? Maybe Ron would like to take a crack at it.”

She sighed in his ear, it sounded lonely and forlorn.

“What happened the other day?” He asked quietly.

“It's stupid, Harry.” Hermione sniffed, and that was the first inkling he had that she was truly upset. “He's being stupid, and he keeps saying it's our fault. That we  _ planned _ this and Ginny-”

Harry stood up and gathered the girl up in a tight hug, she started to sob into his shoulder. He rubbed her back, and swayed back and forth. He'd never been good at consoling someone, but that certainly wasn't going to stop him. They stayed like that for a long time, until Hermione's hiccups subsided, until she almost fell asleep standing.

“Don't worry about him.” He muttered. “He's come around before, and Ginny knew what she was doing.”

“I don't think he will this time.” She whispered, only the deadness of the room let him hear her. Harry bit his lip, how was this going to be alright?

He hummed instead.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twelve days later, Malfoy had been released from the infirmary and Harry began seeing less of Hermione. Though he could plainly see that her time was spent with her Guardian and Malfoy and N.E.W.T.s.

His wand did the minimal amount of work it possibly could, and he had sent a letter to Rowan, asking if it was normal for a wand to behave in such a way. Rowan suggested duelling to straighten it out, but he had so much to do, that duelling seemed out of reach. He started spending more and more of his free time in the dungeons with Severus, just for the peace and quiet. And hopefully to stop  _ feeling _ around him.

It seemed Snape had dug deep into his skin and burrowed to the very depths of his heart, like a symbiotic parasite. He would appear in Harry's dreams, like a shadow of seduction that Harry blamed entirely on his own psyche. He had let it happen once and suddenly his mind was flooded with images of Severus, with fleeting touches and intense stares, and  _ Harry was losing his fricking mind. _

Severus gave no notice, however; stoic, clueless, gorgeous bastard that he was. And the more the man ignored him, the more Harry's dreams were frequented by him.

Still, his disinterest in other Alphas didn't stop them from approaching him. It seemed the others were being held back by Malfoy, as if the other boy had been protecting him without meaning to. As soon as that obstacle was gone, he was swarmed with invitations, party favors, gifts to start courtships, and he even had one chase him to the dungeons.

He declined all of them, and hexed the ones that wouldn't stop. His reputation was getting to be par with Ginny on who could hex you the fastest and the worst.

Ron avoided him like he had the plague, which was good in some respects, the red-head would no longer instigate verbal altercations, and gave him a wide berth when passing in the halls. Harry hated that he refused to accept that none of this had been planned, that Harry's life  _ loved _ to fuck him sideways.

He stayed inside his group of friends when he could, Luna kept the Alphas from trying to ask him for anything and Neville liked to engage him in discussions about schoolwork. Malfoy eventually joined, a symptom of following Hermione around whenever he could, and Harry was quickly learning to appreciate the Slytherin's ingenuity. But they always got glares from Ron when Malfoy was around, so they stopped dining in the Great Hall when they could.

Harry had offered his private chambers for this particular venture, as Severus was still watching him, and he was no longer in need of the Come-and-go room. They met once for lunch and it suddenly became routine to meet at the yellow witch for meals. Then it spread to study sessions, where Malfoy would tutor them in Potions, or Neville would engage them in Herbology. Luna took charge of Care of Magical Creatures, Harry tried to help with Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Hermione filled everything else. It was good for a while.

Then Neville had his Heat, and Luna couldn't be bothered to leave her Common Room. It set Harry and Hermione on edge, and they would fight more often than not about nothing. It lasted two weeks, and Neville was back and so was Luna.

Hermione's Heat coincided with their return, and then neither she nor Draco could be seen for a few days.

Harry was starting to realize how alone he was becoming, the absences of his friends made it abundantly clear to him that he'd found no mate whatsoever. And though Snape was a wonderful fantasy, that was almost a dead rose waiting to be sheared off. He wondered, not for the first time, if he would wind up alone just like Snape.

For one reason or another, he was just simply not mating material.

So he did what he assumed anyone would do in his situation, he buried his thoughts in his school work and tried to forget about it.

Voldemort was getting more brazen, a bunch of Muggle homes had been destroyed over the last few months, all bearing the Dark Mark in the sky above them. And almost always, someone was found dead under it. He thought about asking Severus about it, just to  _ know _ if the man was responsible for any of them, but he decided quickly that it wouldn't matter anyways. Snape had always been Dumbledore's, no matter what he was doing in that service.

Harry had to believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So another long pause betwern chapters. I swear I'm trying to make this all seem realistic and entirely possible, using all sorts of things I know about Harry Potter, but it's getting ridiculous how little JKR has on these subjects.  
> Again, super f***ing thankful for the Jam City game, because I have more to work with and the characters have so much room to maneuver around this world. Especially because it is set in the seven years after Harry first defeated the Dark Lord, and really it gives some flesh to Snape's time in between too.  
> This chapter is not changing. I love it, and I always thought this would be the best way to confuse the shit out of Voldy. Because we all know there's no possible way that Harry could have defeated Voldy without not having his own wand, the magical link was too much for the cores and all it did was prevent either of them from attacking properly. I mean, it did a great job of protecting Harry, but offensive spells are just as important as defensive spells. I'd be pretty mad at me if I didn't give the boy another wand to use in the battle. Srsly.


End file.
